


The Asset Remembers

by Nantai



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (how is that not a tag already?), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Has Nightmares, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Gen, Group Therapy, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Project TAHITI had no side effects, va
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-04-25 12:44:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14378928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nantai/pseuds/Nantai
Summary: After the Asset dragged his target out of the river he decides to run from Hydra and hide in the city. The next morning brings an unlikely friend and some revelations.(Unbetaed at the moment! If you'd like to help I'd be eternally grateful!)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to my first fanfic in the MCU! I'm a big Bucky fan and I always wondered what happened after CA:WS. This is a fix-it especially for the disaster called Civil War. As mentioned in the summary I'm looking for a beta reader, especially since I'm a non-native speaker and experience has taught me that my English still needs some brushing up. So if you're interested shoot me a message at my tumblr (evolutionsbedingt.tumblr.com)!  
> Chapter Warnings: racial slurs (Don't worry, Bucky is a gentleman)  
> Enjoy!

The Asset looked down at the man he had dragged out of the river. He was still puzzled about his actions. Why did the man refuse to leave him there, trapped under the steel beam? Why had ‘to the end of the line’ shaken him so much? Felt like an echo so much?

Shaking his head the Asset stepped away from the body, hearing the strong heartbeat faintly and not too sure what to do. He had been sent to kill the man. But that seemed somehow wrong. Could the handlers have confused him with somebody else? Somebody dangerous?

Taking another step backwards the Asset turned around and carefully pushed his way into the underbrush, making sure not to leave any too obvious traces behind. He carefully crawled up the riverbank and assessed his location. He was on the far side of the river, having crossed it to get out of the wreckage zone. There were civilians near-by who watched the still teetering helicarrier crashing into the SHIELD headquarters. The Asset rolled his eyes at their stupidity of not getting out of the danger zone and looked for the path where they were least likely to see him.

He realized that he probably should leave his weapons behind. But the Asset was very firm in his decision not to return to the meeting point. Not returning meant no punishment for mission failure. Not returning also meant that they would come after him.

He needed a hide-out. Somewhere where he could leave the weapons. A place where he could get civilian clothing (because he did know that very few civilians wore tactical gear just for fun, even if he didn’t remember where that knowledge came from).

The riverbank was very unappealing since it was bound to be searched by rescue teams. Maybe he could find an abandoned house where he could build his base for now. But a quiet voice reminded him to check for traces of humans and animals alike first. Collateral damage because a homeless or children found him wasn’t acceptable.

If he wanted to break into an abandoned house he’d have to wait somewhere for the dark. The Asset sighed. So a temporary hiding spot for the guns and the grenades, and civilian clothing came first.

Crawling along the riverbank, hidden in the bushes the Asset soon reached a dry sewer. He contemplated going in and finding a nook or something to stash his weapons, but the danger of them either being seen by someone or flushed out when the sewer came to use was too big for his liking. He crawled on and after another fifty feet or so found a tree with a hollowed out bottom. The traces along the edges of the hole indicated animals, but it was big enough for the .38 and the four remaining grenades. If he wrapped them into his jacket they’d be mostly safe from any humidity and the duct tape he found in the satchel on his right leg would keep them in place. He kept the .22 in his boot and the two knives at his back, he didn’t want to be more vulnerable than he already was.

Sliding carefully down to the riverbank the Asset made sure that the tree and its’ precious goods weren’t visible from there. He climbed back up again and out of the bushes, memorizing the tree's position in relation to the landmarks on the other side of the river and the bank it was on.

The two knives on his back vanished under his bulletproof vest and with a quick look around the Asset made sure that nobody looked into his direction. He slipped out of the bushes and started walking like he had every right to be there.

Next he would have to find clothes that hid his metal arm and he didn’t really fancy mugging some poor guy. That meant finding stores without asking directions, which would only call attention to him. Watching the wreckage of the helicarriers and the Triskelion the Asset realized that in the chaos around there it would be much easier to swipe a few things from the stores. Even if it meant getting uncomfortably close to Hydra. Hopefully they hadn’t realized he was missing yet.

**o0o**

The Asset pulled the hood over his head and angled his body in a way that was sure to hide him from the cameras in the store. He opened the door leading out back and went upwards on the stairwell, turning his face away from the cameras surveying the stairs. In the deserted third floor, which was mostly office space, he turned to the elevator and went back down. Stepping out of the employees’ door he surveyed the area for a moment and then headed back to the main street.

Acquiring civilian clothes, check. Feeling his stomach grumble the Asset took a look around to find food places. Then he realized that he didn’t have a budget for this…not-mission. Unless he wanted to pick-pocket or beg he would have to find a way to make some money.

The Asset had a sudden memory of polishing shoes with two much smaller hands. Shaking his head he decided that it was unlikely that he’d find a job downtown. But he didn’t like moving away from his weapons that far. He palmed the knife he had taken out of his satchel and put it into his left pant pocket.

Stealing would be easy. He was trained to be stealthy if he had to. But he didn’t feel too comfortable about it. Stealing from a big company was something different, they probably wouldn’t even notices something was gone. But people? They’d notice, it would inconvenience them.

The Asset went with the stream of people away from the catastrophe and into safety. Well, as safe as anyone in a capitalist country could be.

After wandering the streets for hours until it was evening the Asset finally decided on an empty apartment building that was still rather close to the city center. It was big enough that, if he went all the way up, nobody should disturb him.

When the Asset entered through the kicked-in backdoor three shapes shifted deeper into the shadows. While his training reminded the Asset not to allow humans near his hide-out he decided that they were probably no danger. He doubted they were Hydra spies.

On the topmost floor he finally found an deserted apartment that wasn’t in too bad a shape and had an exit that would allow him to leave over the roof, another that lead on the neighboring roof and of course the front door.

The mattress looked suspicious enough that the Asset didn’t want to try his luck, but the pillow and the blanket were parasite free and he had slept more uncomfortably than squashed against a wall. Leaning his head back the Asset finally allowed himself to think about the _man_ who had called him ‘Bucky’ and ‘James Buchanan Barnes’. Those names didn’t stir anything like ‘to the end of the line’ had, but they had a faint echo anyway. Something that he couldn’t remember (not that he was used to remembering things, or was he?).

In the half hours of sleep the Asset got that night, waking with every tiny sound, he dreamed of a small, blond man with blue eyes and a shy smile. He also dreamt of electricity and pain, but he didn’t dwell on that.

**o0o**

The next morning came bright and way too early and the Asset cursed in various languages when he realized that the sun would be shining right into his eyes for at least another hour if he didn’t move. He hadn’t even known that he could speak not just English and Russian. There also was French, German, some kind of Arabian and a language that sounded like Dutch, but wasn’t.

The Asset wondered what day it was, hell, what year probably was the more important question. Suddenly he heard footsteps outside the apartment and in one fluid motion he had his knives out and was standing behind the bedroom door before the other person even reached it.

Staying completely still the Asset watched a young woman carefully open the door, she was talking into a white rectangular thing and her clothing was way too good for her to be homeless.

“And they’re sure he didn’t leave?” she asked, standing in the open door.

The Asset barely caught the answer. “Positive, they would have noticed.”

“Well I didn’t find him up here, unless he left over the roof…” the young woman turned to go, but something must have caught her eye because she stilled. “Wait a minute.”

She stepped into the room and over to the corner were the Asset had slept. Realizing what was about to happen he mentally cursed his own stupidity. The sheets and the pillow would still be warm and he couldn’t leave from behind the door without the woman seeing him.

“He was definitely here,” she said, turning around. When her brown eyes landed on him they widened as she yelped in surprise. “Correction: he still is.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You can put the knives down, I won’t tell the authorities that you’re here.”

The Asset shot her a look but he lowered the knives to hip level, he didn’t not however put them away. She shot him a smile.

“I’m Janice, I’m helping the homeless that live downstairs, collecting donations and clothes and stuff for them,” she explained, still smiling.

The Asset didn’t answer. He didn’t know what to do.

“Are you a vet?”

He cocked his head and frowned, then he nodded reluctantly. In some way he was.

“Okay, I won’t pry, don’t worry,” Janice told him, brushing her wild, black curls back from her forehead. “But it’s good to know that I probably shouldn’t startle you.”

The Asset continued not to say anything, he wasn’t sure what the woman wanted.

“Do you need anything?”

The Asset shook his head after a moment. He wasn’t so stupid as to accept food from strangers.

“If you’re hungry, we do have food. It isn’t poisoned. If you need any meds, I can see what I can do. You look like you got in a fight, or did you get caught in the attack yesterday?” Her eyes widened again and she shook her head. “Sorry, I promised not to pry, didn’t I?”

The Asset felt something akin to amusement curl in his stomach, but on the other hand he couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten. He wasn’t even sure if it had been before or after the last freezing.

“Alright, I will leave you alone,” Janice said with a decisive nod. “I come by every two or three days, and again, if you need anything just say so and I’ll see what I can do about it. Save for drugs of course, I won’t be your drug dealer.”

With that she went back downstairs and the Asset was left to stare at the spot she had been in a moment ago. Why would she want to help him, or homeless people in general? What did she get out of it?

**o0o**

That afternoon the Asset’s grumbling stomach finally won over his morals and he left the building to go search a target downtown. Yesterday most people either had run from the destruction or watched it happening, but the Asset had noted their fine clothing nevertheless. Stealing from the rich wasn’t too bad right? Especially if one had nothing?

Mind set the Asset began walking towards the main street. He watched cars and people flit by and caught himself thinking about how to eliminate those who walked very slowly in the middle of the sidewalk. It was frustrating to say the least, but the thoughts jolted him back into the present. He still needed to find out who he was. Whether he was that James Buchanan Barnes, whether he knew Captain America.

The closer he came to the city center the more ads were hanging everywhere. He saw Captain America on a bus, but before he could read the text it had vanished from sight. The next time he saw that ad was on a big billboard and he could finally read it:

                    **Captain America**

                     The Living Legend  
                     ------and------  
                    Symbol Of Courage

                    Learn more about America’s national icon at the Smithsonian!

The Asset cocked his head. Maybe if he found out more about his alleged connection to the Captain he would find out more about himself? Still, money and food came first, so he continued walking. But his mind was made up. When he had a bit of money he’d go to the Smithsonian and take a look at the exhibition.

Soon enough the Asset spotted a man in a finely tailored suit who put his wallet into his outer jacket pocket. He had just paid the street vendor with a fifty dollar note. A perfect target. The Asset followed the man and when he was just behind him he pretended to stumble and catch himself.

“Hey, what-?” the man cried indignantly.

“’m sorry, sir,” the Asset said carefully, putting the wallet into his own pant pocket. “Not feelin' too well.” The Asset blinked very fast as if he was trying to get a control over his dizziness.

“Get away from me!” the man said with a sneer, stalking off.

The Asset refused to let his smugness show and turned to cross the road. Still careful to look like he really wasn’t all that well. But as soon as he stepped onto the sidewalk he reverted back to vanishing in the crowd. Three blocks down the street he ducked into an alley and after a check for security cameras opened the wallet. He found six fifty dollar notes, two twenty dollar notes and forty-three cents change. He pocketed all that. The Asset’s hand stilled over the credit cards and the driver’s license, but he thought better of it.

He hid the wallet in his hand and after another act of stumbling had it in the pocket of another rich man. This time he allowed himself to feel a bit smug since he had now three hundred and forty dollar forty-three to his name, which meant he could go and get food.

The Asset decided to walk to the Smithsonian and buy something on the way there, a proper shopping trip would have to happen closer to the apartment building. Bags with food would slow him down if anybody decided to attack him.

When he arrived at the Smithsonian he found it closed for the day. But it had given him a way to check the location first. Of course it was riddled with security cameras, how else would it be. If he was careful he’d be able to maneuver around the most of them without seeming too suspicious. Maybe he could buy himself some kind of hat, to hide his face a bit better. The long hair wouldn’t be much use.

The walk back to the apartment building was made pretty unpleasant by a sudden onslaught of rain and the Asset swore under his breath. He had planned to go shopping before he returned, but in this truly miserable weather he just wanted to crawl under the blanket in the apartment.

His growling stomach reminded him once again that he was still human and that humans needed food to survive. One hot dog on an empty stomach three hours ago wasn’t acceptable. Sighing the Asset ducked into the small store one block from the apartment building and went down the aisles trying to find something he could eat without cooking and store without needing an ice box.

Turning around a corner he found himself face to face with the woman from the morning. Janice, his mind supplied helpfully. She seemed just as startled but then she smiled a bit.

“Hey, soldier,” she greeted him.

The Asset felt his shoulders stiffen at that, it brought memories of pain and death.

“You never told me your name,” Janice said, having probably caught the shift in his body language.

The Asset debated the trustworthiness of a random woman who apparently cared for homeless people. Finally he opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was croaky from disuse. He had to clear his throat before he could say “James.” It was the other name Captain America had used for him.

Janice smiled. “Pleasure, James. Are you searching for something specific?”

The Asset sized her up again, he didn’t trust her friendliness, but on the other hand he hadn’t made much progress in finding food so far. “Something to eat, no cooking or storing in an ice box.”

Janice nodded and smiled again. What was all that smiling about? “Sure, maybe some bread and peanut butter? And you’ll need fruit and vegetables if you don’t want to get scurvy.”

The Asset snorted. He doubted that he was able to get scurvy. But he followed her down the aisles while she chattered on about cheap food and places that would give him free food if he was short on money. The Asset realized that he couldn’t let her know of his pick-pocketing. He was wondering whether she maybe knew a place where he could find work.

A memory chose that moment to assault him, checking the newspaper for job offers and circling them. Sitting next to him was the blond boy, a bit younger than in his dreams, but just as scrawny. Somebody stumbling into him jolted the Asset back to the present and he had them pressed up against the shelf before his mind caught up with what was happening.

His left hand had closed around the neck of Janice, his right hand pressing a knife into her stomach. Not enough to injure, but enough to be a warning. The next thing he became aware of were the jeers of a group of teens to his right. They seemed to be laughing about him and then his brain finally was able to understand English again. What he heard had him shoving Janice behind him and advancing on the young rascals.

“What did you just call her?” he asked, voice dangerously low and his upper lip curling into a faint sneer.

The teens shrank into themselves, safe for the one who was probably the leader. She raised her chin defiantly. “What, now the freak who just attacked the stupid nigger is defending her? That’s hilarious!”

The Asset felt Janice’s hand on his right arm. “It’s okay, they’re not worth it, James.”

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed rattled and there were bruises forming on her neck. Looking back to the teens he saw them whispering and noticed that most of the group seemed to urge the leader to leave. Well, not before he’d have a word with her.

The Asset walked up to the leader until they were nearly nose to nose. Or would be, if she wasn’t at least four inches smaller than him.

“You think insulting people is funny?” he asked quietly, eyes trained on her and not breaking the eye contact he continued, “Does it make you feel all big and powerful, doll?”

The teen shrank back. “I’m not a doll, asshat. Who does even call women that anymore?” The shaking of her voice and her large, fearful eyes ruined the effect of her words.

James let a slow grin creep on his face. “You’re pathetic, doll. Somebody should wash out your mouth with a buck load of soap. If I ever hear you insult somebody again I’d be delighted to do just that.”

With a last toothy grin he righted himself and turned to Janice who watched him with big eyes. He shoved the knife back into its’ sheath on his back and mouthed ‘Sorry’ at her. He walked down the aisle snatching the cereal bars she had indicated earlier from the shelf and going in search of something to drink.

Just when the Asset was pondering whether he should buy some juice or just water, he saw Janice approach him in his peripheral vision. He stiffened a bit, but he doubted she’d catch a movement that small.

“I don’t need saving, you know,” Janice said, the soft tone contradicting the defiance her body language spoke of.

The Asset ducked his head. “I’m sorry for attacking you, I was lost in thought.”

“I figured,” Janice said, relaxing somewhat. “Although I didn’t expect you to be that strong.”

“I hope I didn’t hurt you too much?” the Asset asked, still not meeting Janice’s eyes.

“No, it’s alright. Although I don’t know whether my boyfriend will be too happy about it,” Janice said, chuckling.

The Asset stiffened again, this time more visibly.

“I’m sorry, that was uncalled for,” Janice said quickly. “He’ll understand if I tell him the whole story. He works with vets after all.” She looked at him inquisitively for a moment. “Maybe you could talk to him about adjusting to a civilian life.”

James turned his head. “Why are you still trying to help me?” he asked gruffly.

“Because I think that everyone should get help, if they want it.”

“Even criminals? Murderers?”

Janice nodded. “Even them. I don’t believe in the death sentence. I think if they show true regret they deserve a second chance, after they fulfilled their sentence.”

The Asset very nearly scoffed. Murderers didn’t deserve leniency, they had to be taken out or they would poison society. “If you think so.”

“Maybe I could bring Marc in to see you tomorrow?” Janice asked tentatively. “I understand if it is too early for you to talk to somebody, but if you already know him it will be easier when you’re ready.”

The Asset found himself agreeing to the proposition. It sounded logical, even if he wasn’t sure what to talk about at this point. Those memories he had were hazy at best or so unconnected that they didn’t make any sense. Maybe talking would help. Then he remembered his plans for tomorrow morning.

“I won’t be there in the morning though,” he said quietly.

“Then we’ll come in the afternoon,” Janice said, smiling brightly. “Thank you for letting me help.”

Inclining his head to her the Asset turned to go to the checkout. Janice followed him quietly and put her things on the counter next to his. They payed and stepped back outside. The rain had finally stopped falling and James left down the street with a curt nod to Janice.

**o0o**

Sitting in his nest that evening he pondered Janice’s offers and her position to mercy for murderers. Would she grant him mercy if she knew how many people he had killed? He didn’t really knew any number, but he was absolutely sure that there had been plenty. He had seen some of them in the more unpleasant parts of his dreams in the last night. Some even during the day when people had had a passing resemblance to them.

Another thing that puzzled him was his defense of Janice towards those bullies. It had felt so natural, to tell them off because they were racist, but why would someone like him naturally defend people from bullies? Why had it made him so angry?

Sinking deeper into the pillow at his back he remembered someone, only a face and a name. Gabe Jones. Who was he? Was he the reason why he had reacted to aggressively to the slurs those teens had thrown at Janice? He really needed to get to the Smithsonian and find out more about his past.

* * *

 

When James left the Smithsonian his mind was reeling. Apparently he was dead. Apparently he had been the best friend of Captain America, Steve Rogers. Gabe Jones had been his brother in arms. Seeing all those old pictures, the faces, reading the old stories and names had caused an onslaught of memories that he barely knew how to deal with.

Four things seemed to be undeniably true. One, he was James Buchanan Barnes aka Bucky. Two, he had been Steve Rogers’ best friend since childhood. Three, Steve Rogers wasn’t dead. Four, he had been sent to kill his best friend.

Sitting outside the museum a bit to side from the crowd James tried to sort through his jumbled thoughts. He was ninety-seven years old. Everyone thought he was dead. Everyone he had known save for Steve Rogers was most likely dead.

He had fought in the Second Word War against Hydra. How had he become their asset? Maybe during his imprisonment, before Captain America saved him? Or later, after his fall from the train, when everyone assumed he was dead?

Groaning quietly James buried his head in his hands. At least he knew his name again. And now he could be sure of it. No more just the Asset or the Winter Soldier.

“- Hydra files all over the internet.” James’ head snapped up. Hydra files? “They say they’re heavily encrypted but I took a look and it isn’t that hard. I still didn’t understand a thing because it’s Russian and German mostly, but the newer files are English. Did you know they tried to murder half of the world’s population?”

James finally located the speaker. A young woman, light brown hair pulled back into a simple braid, clothes smart, but feminine. She had an air of confidence that reminded him of Peggy Carter when he had first met her. Her blonde companion was dressed similar and wore glasses with which she fidgeted around.

“Are you sure you translated that correctly?” she asked doubtfully. “I mean, what sense would it make?”

“Are you honestly looking for sense in a nazi terrorist organization?” the brunette scoffed. “But you know what is even more fascinating? CNN seems to have found clues as to who fought with Captain America a few days ago and in the attack as well. He is a Hydra assassin, who just seems to vanish into thin air after every job.”

James straightened and checked the square for anyone watching him or the young women. Nobody appeared to be doing so, but that didn’t have to mean anything. It was dangerous to talk about things like that in the public, didn’t they know?

“Does he have a name? Maybe you could search the files for him and find out more,” the blonde suggested. "I could write an article about him.”

No, no, no! No article! Bad idea, lady! James thought, clenching his left hand.

“I already did, but ‘asset’ really isn’t a very specific name and I don’t know what he would be called in Russian or German,” Brunette said glumly and James exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Where did you even find the documents? I searched for them as well, but I didn’t have any luck,” Blonde put her glasses back on her nose and the women readied themselves to leave as an older couple walked towards them.

“WikiLeaks of all places,” Brunette chuckled. “Now shush, mom and dad don’t need to know that I like to decrypt Hydra files.”

James stayed in his spot for some time after the family had left. He had read about the internet in the exhibition, the question was where would he find a computer? And how could he explain that he didn’t know how to use one? Maybe…an unexpected thought crossed his mind. Maybe he could ask Janice or her boyfriend Marc. Janice had promised not to pry after all.

**o0o**

When he arrived back at the apartment Janice was already there, with a blond, big guy who was up and walking towards James as soon as he entered the room.

“Hi, I’m Marc,” the guy smiled brightly and stretched his hand out towards James.

James carefully uncurled his left hand from the knife he had grabbed at the sudden movement and extended his right hand to grab Marc’s. “James.”

He had had given this some thought on his way home. Rogers had called him Bucky and the exhibition had done so as well. But he wasn’t that person anymore so the name didn’t feel quite right. James was more neutral, only his mother had used it from time to time (at least that’s how he remembered it at the moment).

“Pleasure,” Marc said with a big smile. He released James’ hand and walked back to the couch where he had left a bag which he now opened to pull out a thermos bottle and a roll of cookies. “I thought coffee and cookies could be a good ice-breaker. D’you like coffee?”

James didn’t remember, but he couldn’t exactly say so. “Sure,” he answered instead and sat down on the ground next to the coffee table.

Janice smiled at him encouragingly. “So what did you do this morning?”

He wasn’t sure whether his answer would sound strange, but after all he had decided to trust them to a point. “I visited the Smithsonian.”

“Oh, which exhibition?” Janice asked curiously, while Marc put cups on the table and filled them with coffee.

“Captain America and the general history one,” James answered, accepting his cup with a nod of thanks. He watched Janice and Marc pour milk and sugar in theirs, but after taking a cautious sip he decided that he liked the strong taste.

“I have been pestering Marc for ages to go with me,” Janice said, nudging her boyfriend. “But he is so busy with the veterans, and if he isn’t I’m busy helping the homeless.”

James grinned. “Maybe you should just grab him one day and drag him along.”

Janice narrowed her eyes at Marc. “Sounds like a good plan, if only he wasn’t so heavy.”

“Hey, I’m not heavy! I’m light as a feather!” Marc said, slurping his coffee indignantly.

“Sure,” Janice answered drily.

They fell silent for a moment, drinking their coffee and munching cookies. James watched the couple interact. They seemed genuinely nice. Maybe he really could trust them with parts of his story. Not the Hydra part, mostly because it was still a jumbled mess. But the part before? Having been put into the ice much like Captain America? They probably would think he made it up though.

“Hey, what’s got you all thoughtful?” Janice asked quietly. Marc turned his head to study him.

James took a deep breath. “How much I can trust you.”

Janice raised an eyebrow but Marc just smiled. “I’m not allowed to talk about anything you tell me, and Janice probably wouldn’t anyway. You could even tell me highly classified stuff and I wouldn’t breathe a word of it to anybody.”

James nodded thoughtfully. “You won’t believe me though.”

“Why?” Marc asked curiously.

“Because I’m James Buchanan Barnes, and I’m supposed to be dead for nearly seventy years,” James answered quietly.

They looked at him disbelievingly. But then Marc shrugged, pulled out a flat silver rectangular thing, like the one Janice had used when he first met her. “If what you say is true we can check it easily by comparing you to a picture of him.”

“What is that thing?” James asked curiously. “I saw Janice use it the other day, and other people around the city as well.”

Marc answered while still staring at the lit screen. “It’s a smartphone. A device for communication and entertainment. Ah, there he is…” he trailed off, his eyes flicking between the screen and James.

Janice leaned over his shoulder to get a better look and breathed a surprised “Oh!”

They both looked at him with big eyes. “What even are the odds of that?”

James shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Marc leant back on the couch and rubbed a hand over his face. Janice continued to study the image.

“Do you know how it happened?” she asked after a moment.

“I have my suspicions,” James answered truthfully. “But I only just regained memories of what happened up to my fall in the Alps. The rest is still very hazy.”

“That must be hard,” Marc said, watching James intently. “To regain, what, nearly thirty years of memories that suddenly.”

James nodded. “It is, could barely think straight by the end of the exhibition.”

Marc looked at him contemplatively. “Did Janice tell you where I’m working?”

James shook his head. “She only mentioned you work with veterans.”

“True enough. I don’t know how familiar you’re with the concept of psychologists,” Marc said leaning forward. “But they basically help you sort through your life and make some sense of it. Help you adjust to changed situations, work through traumas, stuff like that.”

“That’s what you do?” James asked, his memories of psychologist were somewhat different. On the other hand, it had been seventy years since he last heard of the concept.

“Yep, especially with veterans in my case,” Marc explained. “If you came by the center I’m sure I could start helping you.”

James crossed his arms over his chest. Going out in public was dangerous even now, how should he go into a building filled with former and active government people? That was asking for Hydra to find him.

Then something occurred to him. “Do you have computers at the center?”

Marc seemed surprised, but he nodded. “Yes, do you want to research something?”

“Mostly the past seventy years,” James said with a small smile, it wasn’t even really a lie. He’d probably do that as well.

“That’s a good idea,” Janice said with an encouraging smile. “Maybe you’ll be able to find some work and a proper place to live as well!”

James stiffened at that. He knew he would need money and a real apartment, but learning about who he was and what happened in the last seventy years had a big priority.

“It’s okay if you aren’t ready yet,” Marc said in a much calmer tone. “If you have any questions about the present day you can always come to us.”

James noticed a shift in Janice’s body language, she seemed suddenly hesitant and…confused? “What is it?” he asked, keeping curiosity and resignation out of his voice. Would she ask about Captain America?

“You seemed pretty, well,” Janice was grappling for the right word. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with my skin color, but…”

James relaxed and smiled a little. “I’m from Brooklyn, ma’am, not from the south. And I served with a black man, a jap and a frog-eater, they made sure any lingering racism was out of my system as soon as we started working with the Captain.”

Marc chuckled. “Who would have thought. I know a few congressmen who would be very confused by you. They probably wouldn’t believe you’re truly from the forties.”

Janice started laughing. “Imagine Senator Stern hearing about that,” she gasped out. “I want to record his face when he hears it!”

“Could be tricky since he is in Army custody,” Marc said teasingly.

“What? Why? I would have expected FBI, but not the Army,” Janice said, confusion written all over her face.

“He apparently was a part of Hydra,” Marc explained. “They arrested him this morning.”

The Asset stiffened, he was half out of his chair before he caught himself. He didn’t have to go off and rescue a level ten Hydra member anymore. They wouldn’t, no, couldn’t ever ask that of him again. They couldn’t punish him for not doing it anymore. They didn’t have any power over him.

“Hey, sold-“ Before Marc could finish the word, Janice had clapped a hand over his mouth. The Asset noted absently that she whispered “Don’t, last time I called him that he flinched really badly.”

Carefully, slowly the Asset uncurled his left hand and stretched it out on his leg, shoving the .22 back into his boot. He forced his hand to remain steady when he grabbed a cookie and mechanically raised it to his mouth.

“James?” Janice asked hesitantly, making no move to touch him, but releasing her boyfriend’s mouth. “You’re safe. Marc and I won’t tell anybody of you. You can trust us.”

The Asset watched her through the curtain of his hair, nodding hesitantly. That earned him a smile from her and a thumbs-up from him.

“Would you like some more coffee?” Marc asked casually, as if he hadn’t just seen the- no, his name was James, James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky – as if he hadn’t just seen him turn into the Winter Soldier.

James nodded again. “That’d be great. Much better than the stuff we had during the war.”

Janice laughed at that, but there was a hesitant edge to it. “I can imagine. It’s one of the pleasures of modern civilization.”

James tried to smile, but he was afraid it was rather a grimace than anything comforting.

“May I ask what set you off?” Marc wanted to know, while carefully pouring coffee into James’ cup.

James hesitated, turning the cup in his hands. If he told him he could figure out who James really was, or rather what he had done since the war.

“If I know what made you react that way, I can avoid it and at the same time help you better if somebody else doesn’t,” Marc explained calmly, sipping his own newly poured coffee.

Putting the cup back on the table James contemplated the situation. They had reacted incredibly well and level-headed to his announcement that he was Bucky Barnes. But what would they say if he revealed himself to be a former Hydra asset? If they ran off he would have to frighten them into silence, they were too great a risk to his safety. (He consciously didn't think about the other option.)

He needed to lay low for a bit. Hydra wouldn’t expect him to stay close. Maybe adjusting to civilian live, like Janice had called it, would make that easier. He couldn’t stop keeping watch of course, but he could certainly learn to act like he wasn’t.

“The arresting of Senator Stern,” James finally said. “Normally I would have been sent right away to extract him.”

Surprise flitted over Janice’s face and Marc leant back with a contemplative look on his face.

“Jan, darling, would you leave us alone for a bit?” he finally asked without taking his eyes of James. “I think you don’t need to hear anything else.”

Janice looked like she wanted to protest at first, only giving in when Marc broke eye contact and looked at her meaningfully. “Alright, I’ll be downstairs with Pete and his friends.”

When the door closed behind Janice, James held up a hand and listened until he was certain she had left for downstairs. Then he nodded at Marc.

“She’s gone,” James said quietly. “Why did you send her away?”

Marc returned the nod and relaxed back into the couch. “The day after the attack on the Triskelion and those helicarriers they released a new law under which every known or rumored Hydra agent has to be reported and brought in to the Army. I can always say that I’m not allowed to share such information if it was relayed to me during therapy. Janice can’t.”

James inclined his head. That made sense. “Thank you for not reporting me, I guess.”

“I- It sounds stupid, but…I don’t think you’re hiding from the government here,” Marc said, shrugging.

“In some way I do,” James said with a tiny smile. “Hydra basically is the government. And I’m hiding from both.”

“Because of what you did while you were with Hydra?” Marc asked calmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

James shook his head. “Not exactly, more what Hydra made me do. I never wanted to work for them. I don’t remember any specifics, but it wasn’t anything good.”

“You heard of the files,” Marc stated calmly. “That’s why you were asking about the computers.”

James only nodded.

Sighing Marc rubbed his hands over his face. “But you don’t want to be seen in a government building.”

He nodded again, it was obvious.

“That’s a difficult situation,” Marc finally said, staring out of the window. “I’d understand if you only wanted to do research and learn to adjust to the twenty-first century. Few veterans actually come in to get therapy. They don’t want to seem weak or they think they can handle it on their own. Group therapy is easier for them, probably because it seems less like they’re talking to a shrink and more like talking to friends.”

James watched Marc, he seemed taut and troubled. What did the soldiers have to go through that they should get therapy? Those who had been in the Great War had been battered, sure, and many had either fallen into the bottle or the opium pipe, but there had been the depression. What James had seen so far the country was doing well. “Why does it trouble you that they don’t go to therapy?”

Marc turned to him and raised his eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“Your body language,” James shrugged.

“Oh,” Marc deflated with a sigh. “It troubles me because way too many either fall into homelessness for various reasons or commit suicide. And then I’m not even taking in consideration the thousands of veterans who barely function with a broken psyche and a civilian life.”

James felt his eyebrows shoot up. “What did they see so horrible that they would become that way?”

Marc shook his head. “It’s not exactly about what they saw. That’s only part of the problem. What do you know about the Vietnam War?”

“Only what I read in the Smithsonian,” James answered, wracking his brain for anything that could have been different, aside from the improved weapons.

“That war was highly discussed. Many people in the US and all over the world were against foreign involvement,” Marc explained quickly. “When the vets came home they weren’t greeted with reverence and glory, but by angry protesters and contempt. More soldiers died by suicide than by enemy fire for the first time in history. Since then the public opinion has changed again, but there is no glory in being a soldier anymore. After the Second World War many cities greeted their returning ‘heroes’ with parades and so on. Well, not anymore.”

“So, basically soldiers risk their lives overseas, but they aren’t appreciated for that anymore?” James asked, understanding dawning. “I mean, being a soldier was only glorious outside the battlefield, but if it wasn’t at home either…”

“Exactly,” Marc said quietly. “I’m sure you heard of veterans who thought their wife or child were enemies and shot them? Of soldiers who didn’t get a good night’s sleep without taking some kind of drugs?”

James nodded. By the time he had been old enough to understand that, there had been fewer cases, but his mother had never failed to warn him away from Mr. Morrison. He was known to see enemies where there weren’t any and shoot at them.

“That’s what we call PTSD nowadays,” Marc explained. “There are other things of course, like flashbacks, not being able to let old war habits go, mood swings, hallucinations, and a lot of other stuff. That’s what I mostly therapy in soldiers.”

“And you think I have it,” James stated calmly. It wouldn’t surprise him.

But Marc shook his head. “Not yet. PTSD sets in months after you returned from the traumatic circumstances. At the moment it’s only acute stress reaction, in easier words: shock. But if we don’t act fast and help you come to terms with it…well, in your case it would be extremely surprising if it _didn’t_ develop into a PTSD, even with therapy.”

“And you can help me?” James asked cautiously, watching Marc’s reaction like a hawk.

The corner of his mouth hitched up, the corresponding eye crinkling and he nodded while leaning forward. “If you let me, of course. You’ll have to be one hundred percent honest with me. I won’t pressure you into talking about something that you don’t want to talk about, but I won’t let you skip a subject completely, especially if I think that you’ll have to deal with it for your recovery.”

James nodded. “I’ll need time to think about it.”

“Of course,” Marc slowly opened his jacket, carefully retrieving a small etui. James uncurled his fist just as carefully when Marc reached out. “Here’s my card. The address of the center, my phone number and my office hours.”

Turning the card around in his hands James looked up at Marc. “Why do you and Janice want to help me?”

“It’s what we do,” Marc said shrugging. “I always wanted to become a psychologist and after my brother went to the military I decided I wanted to go and help veterans. Janice is a pre-school teacher and started working in soup kitchens for a social week when she was sixteen, she hasn’t stopped since.”

“You said there were group therapies?” James finally asked.

“Yes, if you want to, you can go there and listen a bit first,” Marc said enthusiastically. “I don’t do groups though, I’m specialized on one-on-one therapy, but my friend Sam Wilson does. You can trust him.”

James nodded, looking down on the small, white card.

“They meet twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday at seven pm,” Marc added while putting the empty thermos can away and stacking the cups into one another. “Tomorrow is Thursday, so you can go check it out and have the whole weekend to think about it.”

“Thank you, Marc,” James said, feeling a bit more positive.

“Don’t thank me just yet, if you want to do group therapy you will have to use a cover story, which won’t do you much good in the long run,” Marc warned, looking at James intensely. “Maybe the group will help you adjust to modern life, but you’ll need one-on-one to deal with the last seventy years.”

Marc left after that, reminding James once again to tell Janice if he needed anything. James had waited until he saw the both of them leave the building. Then he got his tactical gear and followed them over the roofs. He had been too trusting so far. Letting them see where he lived, letting them help him, accepting food and drink.

He basically had felt his stomach revolt against the poison that hadn’t been in this food. Not really a memory, but jolting him back to reality. He couldn’t trust. Trust would get him killed.

Four blocks down the couple entered an apartment building on the other side of the street. James climbed down the side of his building and crossed the street after them. Remembering the name on the card Marc had given him he checked the plates and found them in third story. Standing back, in the shadow of the trash cans James thought about his options.

He didn’t have any proper gear to bug the apartment, he didn’t even have lock-picks to break in. He could of course position himself on the fire escape and hope that his superior hearing was enough to spy on them. But what if they looked outside? Or somebody on the street looked up?

After another few minutes of contemplation James decided to head back to his apartment. He would try and break in tomorrow while they should be at work. Marc’s office hours were mostly in the morning and pre-school probably still started around nine.

His mind made up, James started on the way back to his apartment. Reeling with questions of trust and safety, healing and survival. He would never have safety if he trusted, but on the other hand…how should he survive if he didn’t heal?

* * *

James didn’t get any sleep that night. Even after nothing had come up anymore his stomach wouldn’t settle, convinced that there had to have been poison in the food or coffee. Reminding himself that he wouldn’t die if he hadn’t yet, that he was more or less insensitive to most poisons hadn’t done any good.

In the gray hours of the morning he wasn’t quite James, but not quite the Asset either. The impulse to _run, hide, kill_ warred with _stay, research, adjust_.

When the first streaks of sunlight permeated the bedroom window, the Asset rose to his feet, cleaned away his nest and pushed the civilian clothing into the teetering wardrobe. Then he left over the roof, walking towards the river. When the roofs stopped he jumped down on the street and stole a motorcycle to drive the rest of the way to the riverbank.

Retrieving his weapons the Asset watched the island. It was a great risk. But if he could get even one of the guards and relieve him of his weapons he’d count that as a win. As far as he could see they had a handgun and a rifle each. Probably magazines as well.

While he would be able to cross the river undetected the Asset doubted the weapons would survive that prolonged contact with water particularly well.

But he needed more weapons. Two guns, one of which had only half the magazine left, and four grenades wouldn’t get him far should he have to fight.

Maybe the Asset could lure a few agents over. If he showed himself and made them notice him they would be stupid not to follow him. But there was still the problem of the meager weapons arsenal at his disposal and the dwindling time if he wanted to search Marc’s and Janice’s apartment.

Grumbling the Asset pulled on his now somewhat muddy jacket, polishing his metal arm with the jacket he had worn on the way here. Then he removed one of the grenades from his back and went to a more open part of the riverbank, close to the destroyed bridge. From there the Asset could see guards in boats patrolling around the half-sunken helicarrier.

The Asset climbed on the bridge, dropped the grenade and jumped down in the moment it exploded. The gunshots trailing him told him that he had the attention of the guards. He turned around, standing there for a second and watched as the boat sped towards him over the river.

In the last moment the Asset turned around and started up the riverbank. He could hear them running after him. Four guards, each had a rifle and a handgun and who knew what else.

Well, the Asset thought, let’s have some fun.

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. The first guard stumbled to a halt but the three behind him had too much momentum and ran him over. They yelled at the Asset to go down on his knees and he just smirked at them.

Stepping towards the guard on his left he grabbed the rifle with his metal hand, pulling him closer. Ripping the rifle out of his hands the Asset knocked him out with the butt of the weapon. He turned around and fired exactly six shots. One to the right shoulder and one to the left knee each. Three precise hits to the head later they lay still on the ground.

The Asset took only the magazines of the other three rifles, all handguns and their magazines. Last he searched the men for knives and recovered three. That would have to be enough for the moment.

The weapons secured on his body the Asset turned away from the guards and towards the street where he had left the stolen motorcycle. He didn’t dwell on the fact that he didn’t kill them like he should have. It was a security risk, but a low one and he didn’t want to kill if he didn’t have to.

**o0o**

An hour later the weapons were safely tucked away in the apartment and he was back in civilian clothes. Munching on a cereal bar he started to fiddle with the radio in what once was the kitchen and nearly jumped a foot when it started to blare music at him. And not the music he had known either. This was…startling to say the least.

He turned the volume down and listened for a while, even though something in the back of his mind whispered in vicious Russian about indecent Americans. Once his ears got used to the strange electric sounds it wasn’t even that bad, though nobody could be able to dance to that beat!

Then the moderators started talking about the attack and how SHIELD was now seen as a terrorist organization. They also questioned Captain America’s reasoning behind taking down three helicarriers and polluting the Potomac with so much trash. They spoke about how the rescuing was still going on, how they were still finding living people in the ruins of the Triskelion.

When they mentioned how the Winter Soldier was still fugitive and started speculating whether he was an invention by Captain America to justify his acts, James forcefully kept his hands flat on the surface of the table. He listened to their ludicrous ideas. James wanted nothing more than to storm into the radio station and set their heads straight. But he couldn’t do that, so he confined himself to turning off the radio, collecting his gear and leaving to Marc’s and Janice’s home.

Only when he had already entered the apartment and was halfway through the living room James realized that he had spent the better part of his morning as the Asset without noticing it. He fell down on the couch and put his head in his hands.

That was bad. If those guards had been Hydra they would only have to shout a few commands at him and he would have done whatever they wanted him to. He hadn’t been careful. Yes, he had weapons, but now SHIELD and Hydra both knew he was still in the city.

“Бля!” James would have added more curses, but a sound in the hallway made him still. It couldn’t be Janice or Marc, they should both be at work. Rising quietly James put everything back in place as fast as he could and went to the front door. Outside he heard somebody muttering under their breath and fiddling with something metal. Then James heard a key being put into a lock and relaxed. It was only the neighbor across the hall.

Stepping back into the living room James continued his careful search. He didn’t check the electrical devices (mostly because he wasn’t quite sure how to use them) but everything else looked clean. The search of bed room and bath, as well as the kitchen came to the same result and James felt the knot in his stomach loosen. He really could trust these people to a point. What Marc had told him about himself and Janice checked out with the documents, folders and books laying in the apartment.

Noticing the time on the clock in the living room James realized that Janice probably would be coming home any minute now. At least if she left straight after her last period, according to the timetable he had found. James put away the book he had studied for hidden notes or something like that. Listening on the front door he made sure nobody would see him coming out of the apartment.

When he turned to take a look at the lock he was relieved to see that he had only caused minimal damage when he had used his knife to pick it. Nobody who wasn’t trained to look for signs like these would notice.

James contemplated which way to take to leave, since there was a certain possibility that he would meet Janice on the way out if he left through the front door. That thought lead him up to the roof and down the staircase in the next building.

When he left through the front door he just caught Janice entering her own building and breathed a sigh of relief.

**o0o**

At 6:30 pm James stood in front of the Veterans Center, hidden in the shadows of the building across the street and watching the people who went in and out. So far he hadn’t recognized anyone, but that didn’t have to mean anything. He wasn’t that well acquainted with Hydra and he was quite sure that even the agents didn’t always know each other.

That afternoon James had bought himself one of those ‘smartphones’ and he hoped to ask Janice to show him how to use it for more than just the time tomorrow. Now he checked the time again. Ten minutes to seven. He would have to talk to Sam Wilson before the meeting started, maybe he should go in now.

Some part of him told James not to, to wait till five minutes after it started and slunk in then. But he shook his head at that idea. It would draw way too much attention.

So James crossed the street, his head low and hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He entered the building and followed the pointers to the group therapy room. It wasn’t exactly what James had expected with the small stage and the many chairs facing it. But that made it easier to find Sam Wilson. Well, that and the fact that the man came straight to him.

Once James got a good look at his face though he wanted to turn and run. It was the man with the wings he had fought a few days ago. There was no chance he wouldn’t recognize him!

Wilson came to a halt in front of him and stretched out his hand. “Hi, I’m Sam Wilson, Marc told me you’d come today. Can I talk to you for a moment?”

James mechanically shook his hand and they stepped out of the room and went around a corner.

“Steve woke up today,” Wilson informed him without preamble. “The doctors say if someone hadn’t pulled him out directly after his fall it could have been really bad. Since there was nobody else there and it would take a considerable amount of strength to pull Cap out of the water I guess I’ll have to thank you for saving him.”

James stared at the man in front of him. He didn’t know what to say. He was too startled to even fully comprehend what Wilson had said.

Finally he drew in a labored breath. “I’m sorry for trashing your wings.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve been told I’ll get new, better ones,” Wilson said, waving his apology away. “I’m way more interested in why you’re here.”

James took a closer look at Wilson. He didn’t know how much Steve had told him, what Marc had said. But, if Steve trusted him, he probably could too. “I need to adjust.”

“To modern day?” Wilson asked calmly. “Or to civilian life?”

“Both,” James answered. “Marc thinks group therapy could work as long as I stick to my cover story and don’t ask too strange questions. I’m still a vet, after all.”

“True enough,” Wilson said, looking at him sharply. “Why do you go with James?”

“Bucky doesn’t feel right,” James mumbled. “Feels like that chap died in the Alps.”

Wilson nodded. “Alright. I guess you don’t want me to tell Steve that you’re still around?”

James quickly shook his head. He was far from ready to deal with Steve. Steve, who had always been able to read him far too easily. Who was so righteous that he probably wouldn’t understand why James had given in.

“Okay, then I won’t,” Wilson said soothingly. “You’ll have to face him eventually though.”

“I know,” James admitted. “But I don’t know for sure who I am at this point and he’ll expect me to be someone I haven’t been in a very long time.”

“Alright, you just want to listen today, right?”

James nodded.

“Then let’s get started, I think we’re actually already running late.”

* * *

Over the next weeks James’ life started to get a rhythm. Tuesday and Thursday he’d go to the meetings, using a different path every time. Monday and Friday he had therapy sessions with Marc. At the moment he was just sorting through his memories of before 1945, but that was already more difficult than he had ever anticipated.

During the week he worked at a construction company that hadn’t looked too closely at his faked papers. (Marc had nearly dropped his mug when James had told him, launching into a rant on ID-fraud. James had finally been fed up and asked whether he should just go and find his original one, he was sure someone kept it somewhere. That had shut Marc up.)

On the weekends James dove into the shadier parts of Washington and made some money on the side in cage fighting. Of course he had to pull his punches and always wear gloves and long-armed shirts, but after a long week it was his new favorite way to unwind.

Having regular money meant that he was able to rent an apartment from someone who was (again) not very interested in his papers.

All in all his new life reminded him a lot of his life in Brooklyn before he joined the Army. Aside from being friends with a guy who was part of the Avengers and having regular therapy of course.

The friendship with Sam had started out with him asking him to stay back after his third meeting, where he had finally introduced himself as James Barnes, former POW and veteran. At first James had thought he would ask him to contact Steve again. But Sam had just warned him that Steve had enlisted Tony Stark’s help to find him and that he should try and avoid any and all cameras.

And wasn’t that strange to hear that Howard had had a child? James only remembered the daredevil pilot and womanizer who he had gone on a few beers with one time. Granted, thanks to the Stark name it had been more like a few bottles of cheap vodka, but they’d had their fun.

With Marc’s help James had found the Hydra files and after applying his old charm nobody had minded him printing out nearly one hundred and fifty pages. (Probably because he had fixed the printer first, that was a skill he really hadn’t anticipated Hydra giving him.)

Some files were redacted quite heavily, but most were legible and after trying a few codes James remembered learning he understood most of it.

He didn’t sleep for three straight nights. At day he translated the files so he wouldn’t have to tell Marc, so he could just show him. The therapist who had claimed that nothing could ruffle his feathers anymore ran off to the bathroom after the first thirty pages, more than a bit green around the edges.

Then he fetched Sam and together they decided to leak the files to the public.

James was glad that there had been no pictures of him, or he would have needed to leave his rather comfortable life.

Because that was what his life had become: comfortable. Sometimes, after bad nights he would wake up as the Asset and not even realize it at first, until he tried to talk to his co-workers and started to speak Russian. Sometimes somebody would say a word from _the_ _code_ and he would flinch. He never stopped looking over his shoulder.

But he had a home, a job, friends and a structured life. He hadn’t seen head or tail of Hydra for over two months and started to leave one of the knives at home. He had made a name for himself in the neighborhood and nobody would try and attack him here.

So it was only logical, that after three months everything would have to come crashing down. James had just entered the Veterans’ Center when he was approached by a middle-aged man with a friendly smile.

“Добрый вечер, солдат,“ he said amiably. “Желание, добросрдечный.”

The Asset stood up straighter, looking the man right in the eye. Hydra had come to reclaim him and no amount of mental screaming would help. It never did.

But then he heard an aborted noise from the door. There were Janice and Marc, both wide-eyed, and Marc was already pushing Janice back out.

“Девять,” the Hydra agent said and the Asset removed his hand from the knife at his back.

“James, what is going on here?” Marc asked frantically. “Wait…no, no way! Wait...what did you say? Rshaviy!”

Marc’s accent was thick enough to make stones cry, but it worked.

Before the Hydra agent could counter with a word of his own somebody knocked him out from behind. When he crumpled the Asset could see Sam, wielding a prosthetic leg. That image alone was nearly enough for him to break through the programming with a very confused blink. When Marc stepped around him, taking the Asset’s metal hand without any fear Sam gave leg back to the vet standing behind him and put a hand on the Asset’s arm.

“James, you’re safe. The guy is unconscious. We have you,” Marc said quietly, his eyes intent on the Asset’s. “You broke out before, you can do it again.”

Janice joined them, putting a hand on the Asset’s shoulder. “Wake up, James. We can’t go and get Steve, the coffee would go cold before he’d arrive.”

“And wouldn’t…that be a…disaster,” James finally croaked out.

Sam pulled him in a hug, Marc patting his back and Janice rubbing his flesh arm. It took James a moment but then he reciprocated the hug. It felt so, so good after the coldness the commands had left behind.

After a minute he let go of Sam and turned to hug Marc for a moment. “We’ll have to work on your pronunciation, punk.”

“That bad?” Marc asked with a self-deprecating chuckle.

“Let’s just say I barely recognized the word,” James said teasingly.

Suddenly, one of the vets, an angry, former Sergeant by the name of Thomas, stepped forward. “So, who’s the Manchurian Candidate really? You can’t tell me the Taliban now brainwashes in Russian.”

Sam and Marc exchanged a look and James started to study the floor. Luckily, or he wouldn’t have noticed the agent waking up. James leant down, blocked the man’s jaw with his left hand and rooted around in his mouth with the right. He found the capsule with cyanide and pulled it out, before he knocked the agent unconscious once again.

“Sam, you probably should call whoever is responsible for taking in enemy agents,” James said quietly, drawing attention from the room’s occupants. Most of the vets of the group meeting were there and some personnel who still had been working.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Sam said distractedly. “And I’m afraid his real identity is classified, Thomas.”

“So, you lied to us?” Thomas asked James aggressively. “And you let him? There is a policy against lying!”

“I am aware, I came up with it,” Sam answered calmly, turning away from his phone, but James saw the vein at his neck start to pulse faster.

“I didn’t exactly lie,” James added, because he had a code of honor, thank you very much. “I fought; I was taken prisoner, tortured and finally broke free.”

Thomas only scoffed, but James ignored him to turn to the agent. Cocking his head, he asked “Sam, do you have a room where we can put him until they can come and pick him up?”

Marc nodded instead of Sam, who was arguing with someone on the phone. “Follow me.”

James picked up the agent easily and waved Marc away when he tried to help. Even before the serum he could have done that.

**o0o**

Once the agent was safely out of the way, James acknowledged the worry that was churning in his gut. If Hydra had found him here the official government agencies couldn’t be far behind. And for the disaster at the Triskelion alone they probably would put him away for the rest of his life. Nobody even knew how long that would be.

“Marc,” James began to speak just as Sam came around the corner, followed by Janice.

“James, you need to vanish, asap,” Sam said as soon as he reached them. “They’re sending the Army, and I have a feeling that they would recognize you if you stick around.”

James nodded. “I was just about to tell Marc, when you came.”

“Good,” Sam nodded briskly. “Get your stuff from your apartment and meet me at the Washington Monument, you’re going to live with me until this is over.”

James looked at him startled. He knew that Sam had no idea about the severity of some of his episodes, but even so, he must have guessed! What if the Asset only recognized the threat from the helicarriers when he saw Sam and not the friend? “Do you really think that is a good idea? Hydra will certainly look into you, and if not them then the officials. What if I have an episode?”

“It’s much more likely that they’ll look into me, since I actually worked with you,” Marc said calmly. “And if you teach Sam the word you taught me, he should be safe.”

“And James, please remember that I’m a counselor with training as well,” Sam said annoyance bleeding into his voice.

“It’s not about that,” James said quietly. “What if I wake up and only recognize you from the helicarriers?”

“Then we’ll deal with that,” Sam said impatiently. “Now get going or you’ll get your ass busted!”

**o0o**

James waited in the shadows of the trees behind the monument. He watched the square closely, waiting for Sam to turn up. He adjusted the big duffle on his back and made sure that he could easily reach the gun in his waistband. The government would be stupid not to follow the counselor who knocked an agent of Hydra out with a prosthetic leg.

The smile curling at the corners of his lips was somewhat surprising for James. But the situation definitely had warranted a certain amount of amusement.

Half an hour after James had positioned himself in the shadows, Sam arrived. He watched and waited a bit longer, making sure that the man who had come right behind Sam wasn’t tailing him. But the man walked past without as much as a glance up from his phone.

Pulling his jacket down James concealed the gun and stepped out of the shadows to meet Sam at the bench he had chosen.

“Either you weren’t tailed or they stayed further behind than normal,” James said in lieu of greeting and was somewhat amused to see Sam jump.

“Holy hell, you can’t just startle a guy like this,” Sam hissed and put the tiny handgun back into his pocket. “And I lost my tail halfway from the center, he sure as hell didn’t make it easy though.”

“Good,” James nodded, satisfied. “Lead the way?”

Sam stood up and looked him over. “That all you have?”

“Yes, I don’t need much,” James shrugged, he had used his clothes to wrap the weapons and magazines. “And I burnt down the apartment.”

“You did what?!” Sam exclaimed, eyes big as saucers. “That will lead them right there!”

“Just like the files of the center,” James answered calmly. “This way they won’t find anything.”

“But what of the other tenants?” Sam asked desperately. “You put them in danger.”

James scowled. “I did what was needed to be done, and maybe the landlord will finally concede that the gas pipe should be checked over.”

“I- Alright,” Sam shook his head. “Let’s just get out of here.”

They walked barely a hundred feet before an unremarkable silver car stopped next to them and a woman called out “Need a lift?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? Tell me, I love comments just as much as the next author ;)   
> BTW, take that explanation for PTSD in American soldiers with a grain of salt - since I'm not American and don't know many vets even in my own country it's just what I heard in movies and read on the internet.
> 
> Russian translations:  
> Good evening, soldier. Longing, benign.  
> Nine.  
> Code meaning (my own headcanon for that code):  
> Longing - comply  
> Benign - do not harm me  
> Nine - no collateral damage


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look who's still alive! I really didn't anticipate how long it would take me to write 12k words...Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter nevertheless and I promise there is coming more! I'm still looking for a beta, so if anyone is interested, please contact me! :)  
> Enjoy!

James had his .38 out and pointed at the driver before Sam had even fully turned around. Then he recognized the woman behind the steering wheel.

“Вдова,” James narrowed his eyes.

The Widow narrowed her eyes at him. “Do I know you?”

“Can we please get going or do you want to question her first?” Sam asked with a quick look around. 

James sighed and nodded. He positioned himself on the back seat and pulled the .22 out of his boot to point it discreetly at the Widow. There was something about her that confused him to no end, he felt like he should know her but couldn’t place the memory. He knew he had tailed her from Azerbaijan to Ukraine once, and he had fought her at the bridge. But something older was tugging at his brain.

“You really can trust me,” the Widow said lightly. She easily slipped into the thinning traffic.

“Why?” James asked challengingly. He didn’t like the situation at all. The control of his life was slipping through his fingers and he didn’t know how to stop it.

“Because Steve would kill me if I hurt you even the slightest bit and I don’t fancy being killed,” the Widow said with a wink.

James snorted. “He wouldn’t kill you, just make you feel real guilty.” (Where did that come from?)

“Probably,” the Widow conceded with a small smile. “But then I’d be ready to kill myself.”

“Where are you taking us?” Sam asked suddenly, frowning at the Widow. “Not that I don’t trust you, but we’re on the wrong side of the city if we are driving to my home.”

“They’re watching your house, I’m afraid,” the Widow answered quietly. “Stark offered the Tower as a safehouse for you and the Soldier.”

Sam stiffened and James sighed. “Please don’t call me that,” he said tightly. “It’s James, or Barnes if you have to.”

The Widow raised an eyebrow at him in the mirror. “Not Bucky?”

“No, that guy died in the Alps,” James answered quietly. He was still trying to figure out how he knew her.

“I have to warn you though,” the Widow continued, maneuvering around a trash truck so quickly that they were thrown from side to side. “Steve lives at the Tower, and while it would be big enough that you theoretically could go days without seeing somebody, he’ll probably try and reach out to you.”

“Then I’ll deal with that,” James sighed. As long as he didn’t meet him during one of his episodes it should be fine. At least that was what James told himself; now he’d only have to believe it.

o0o

They arrived at the Avengers Tower in the gray hours of the morning. Entering through the underground parking garage they took the elevator up to what was labeled as ‘Communal Floor’. There they met what was undoubtedly Howard’s son.

Talking a mile a minute, apparently only running on coffee and machine oil, dark smudges under his eyes speaking of many sleepless nights. Of course call-me-Tony also had Howard’s built and hair, but that really didn’t define him as his son.

“I know you knew my old man,” Tony was saying now. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t compare me to him, Barnes.”

James was surprised, but only nodded. “Of course. Call me James.”

Now it was Tony’s turn to be surprised, but he covered it quickly with a nod of his own. “Peachy. Since I didn’t have more than a few hours’ notice you’ll stay in the guest rooms for the moment. But don’t worry, putting up a suite shouldn’t take longer than two weeks at most.” He motioned for them to follow him and started over to the left hand hallway.

James tuned Tony out in favor of taking a good look around. The space was very open, easy to spot everyone in the room with one glance, only a few pillars obstructing the view. The huge windows made James feel a bit uncomfortable, but they were so high up that any attacker would have to reach them first. Down the hall he was shown to a guest room and told to ask ‘Jarvis’ for anything he would need.

Closing the door behind him, James swept the room for any apparent hide-outs and then for the less obvious ones again. He decided to put duct tape over the suspiciously big air vent. There was no way to obscure the windows, but he would come up with something.

Exploring the room further he discovered that it had a walk-in closet with a weapons rack. The bathroom was spacious and seemed to be nearly as big as the bedroom itself, a shower and a bathtub filling up half of it. The closet was very well stacked with top grade pain medication and what could have been the content of a surgeon’s go-bag.

This was definitely a guest room for people who regularly fought aliens and crazed scientists. But what else could he have expected in the Avengers headquarter.

“Mister Stark asked me to inform you, that breakfast is served in the kitchen, if you’re hungry,” a British accented, male voice suddenly said calmly.

James whirled around pointing his gun at the corner where it had come from. But there was no one.

“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to startle you,” the voice spoke up again, in the same spot.

“Who are you?” James asked, lowering his gun.

“My name is JARVIS, I’m an artificial intelligence who acts as butler, security and control system of Mister Stark’s suits,” the voice, Jarvis apparently, said proudly. Well, if an AI could sound proud.

“He could have mentioned that ‘Jarvis’ is a fucking computer,” James muttered darkly.

“He certainly could have, but I’m afraid sir often forgets that not everyone knows everything about him,” Jarvis said calmly. “The offer for breakfast still stands.”

James put the gun back into his waistband. “I’ll be right there.”

Normally a new situation like this would require extensive observation before he chose to take action (he had scouted his workplace for a week before he went to talk to the foreman). But he hadn’t eaten dinner yesterday and he would prefer not to have to sleep hungry again.

So James swallowed down his urge to scout the situation first and walked down the hall into the big communal space. As he had guessed earlier it was easy to take in the whole room with one glance. It helped him relax some more and made it easier to approach the group at the table.

Sam was talking with a sandy-blond guy who James recognized as the Avenger Hawkeye, the Widow was talking to a brunet man who he didn’t know and Tony was tapping away on his tablet.

Sam was the first to notice him and waved him over. “Thought you’d want to eat something first,” he said brightly. “You already know Natasha, this one,” he pointed at the blond, “is Clint Barton aka Hawkeye. And that’s Bruce Banner, a little less green than you probably know him.”

The man who was the Hulk nodded at him with a friendly smile. “Don’t worry, I have a very good handle on the big guy, he won’t attack you.”

James nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”

“Bruce,” the man said, still smiling calmly. “Or doc, if you like. God knows Clint insists on calling me that.”

James chuckled. “James, doc.” He chose to ignore the twitch of the doctor’s hand; shaking hands wasn’t something he did.

Bruce nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Natasha just brought us up to date on why you’re here. I hope the situation can be resolved soon.”

“If they took me and Nat in it would be hypocritical to throw him under the proverbial helicarrier,” Clint said shrugging.

And right there and then James finally remembered why he knew the Black Widow. His memories post-1945 were still mostly a jumbled mess, even after reading the files on his actions it was hard to know who was who.

“Натка?“ James asked quietly, and the woman in question turned her head up sharply.

“What?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “How do you know that name?”

“You don’t remember,” James whispered, his eyes big. “That explains..:”

“What don’t I remember? And what does it explain?” Natasha asked coldly, her hands suddenly vanishing under the table.

James consciously put his hands on the table, palms up. “I trained you, at least for some time. And not remembering explains why you weren’t as cautious.”

The others looked between them rapidly.

“You trained her?” Sam finally asked. “I don’t think I read about that in the files.”

“Because it wasn’t in the files,” James said contemplatively. “Maybe they didn’t keep track of no-kill missions.”

“I think I would know if I had been trained by the Winter Soldier,” Natasha said, her posture not relaxing.

“You were young,” James tried to sound calmer than he felt. “Not older than five, it’s likely that you don’t remember.”

Bruce nodded. “He is right, if he only trained you for a short time and you were really that young, you could have easily forgotten.”

“And I don’t think they ever told you who I really was,” James added. “I think you called me soldier most of the time.”

“That’s why you don’t like being called that?” Natasha asked dubiously.

“Because who ever had control of me called me soldier,” James said, noting that she had relaxed somewhat after Bruce had confirmed his theory.

“You should have seen him in the beginning,” Sam threw in casually. “He flinched every time he heard the word. In a vet group.”

“Fuck you, Wilson,” James muttered, but he couldn’t fully suppress the smile that was tugging at the corner of his lips. “But he is right, I’ve come a long way.”

Natasha exhaled slowly. “Alright. I- I have to leave now.” With that she stood up and walked to the elevator, her shoulders tense and her steps forceful, but quiet.

James felt a bit guilty about just dropping the news on her, but he had felt so relieved that he had found out why he remembered her. He had halfway convinced himself that she could have been the daughter of a victim.

“You should talk to her later,” Sam said quietly. “She’ll probably have questions.”

“I will,” James nodded, sitting down on the chair to Sam’s left. “I realize that it was a bit much at once.”

Sam looked at him inquisitively, but James didn’t intend to say more in front of strangers. “Alright. You haven’t eaten a thing so far, what happened to that appetite of yours?”

James snorted and just barely refrained from flipping Sam off. “I was distracted, now I’m back on track.” He took some cereal and milk and grinned at his friend.

“Good to see, idiot,” Sam answered teasingly. “Wouldn’t want you to faint from hunger.”

“How long do you know each other?” Clint asked, amusement written all over his face.

“Three months,” James answered around a bite of food, just to annoy Sam. “He insists on being all caring with me.”

Sam just flipped him off and prepared his own bowl of cereal. They ate more or less in silence, with random questions from Tony who was planning their suites.

Just as James wanted to ask if he couldn’t stay in the guest room, the elevator doors opened and Steve stepped out. He obviously had been working out, if the sweat stains on his shirt were any indication. Steve did a wonderful impression of a deer in the headlights before stammering out a surprised “Bucky?”

James tensed where he sat and put his spoon down carefully. “Hey, punk.”

Sam half-raised from his seat as if to interfere (although James didn’t know what he planned on doing against two super-soldiers). “He calls himself James now.”

Steve looked at Sam in confusion and then back to James. “Why?”

James sighed. “I’m not the man I was before, nobody would be after seventy years away. Less so with the way I spent those years. Bucky died in the Alps.”

The look of utter despair on Steve’s face was heartbreaking but James forced himself to continue eating. He would have had to tell him sooner or later, and he was honestly surprised that nobody seemed to have read the files they had put online.

“I- Bu-,” Steve cut himself off, taking a deep breath. “That will take some getting used to.”

“Just try, yes?” James said with a hint of a smile. “I won’t bite your head off if it takes time.”

“I- Yes, of course,” Steve said quickly. “I- I’ll just go and shower now.”

James watched him go back to the elevator, the look of confusion, hurt and something else still prominent on his face.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Sam said quietly. “Good thing that you didn’t sleep yet.”

James stilled. He hadn’t thought of that. In that state he really shouldn’t meet Steve. Maybe a private apartment would be better after all. “You’re right.” Finishing off his bowl and putting it into the sink he turned to leave. “But I will now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Sam made a shooing gesture and James went back down the hall to his room.

o0o

An hour later James woke up in the dark guest room. He felt for the gun under his pillow and the knife between mattress and bedframe. As soon as his fingers touched the familiar leather wrapped hilt he relaxed.

“Jarvis, how long did I sleep?” James asked quietly, his voice croaky.

“A little more than an hour, Mr. Barnes,” Jarvis answers softly.

James sighed. That was by far not enough. Starting to consciously even out his breathing he drifted off again.

_ “Danke für Ihre Hilfe Doktor, ohne Sie wäre dieses Projekt wohl gescheitert,“ the nasal voice of Arnim Zola permeated his sleepy haze. But the doctor couldn’t be here! The soldiers had said he was in the US, in a prison! _

_ “Keine Ursache, mein Freund,” a deep, calm voice answered. Bucky frowned, he knew that voice, he had talked to that voice. _

_ Suddenly he felt shackles closing around his wrists and heard the electric current in the paddles next to his ears. _

_ NO! _

_ Nonononono! Not this! They promised that they wouldn’t do this again! _

_ “Ich glaube er ist wach, Doktor,“ Zola said disgustingly delighted. _

_ Bucky finally managed to open his eyes and he saw two men standing in front of him. His upper lip curled into a sneer when he saw Zola, the small man smiling brightly. Next to him the taller Doktor pulled out a book bound in red leather. _

_ “Now, shall we begin, soldier?” he asked jovially and Bucky found himself nodding. _

_ “Dr Fennhoff, do you mind if we record this?” a soldier standing to Bucky’s right asked. _

_ “No, of course not,” Fennhoff said with a smile. “This could be very educating.” _

_ And then he turned to Bucky. “Желание, ржавый, семнадцать, рассвет, печь, девять, добросердечный, возвращение на родину, один, грузовой вагон” _

“Я готовый отвечать,” the Asset said, waking up as calm as a Siberian winter morning.

“Mr. Barnes, is everything alright?” the JARVIS asked from the ceiling.

The Asset looked up. “Of course.”

He got up and went into the bathroom to shower away the sweat. He didn’t look at himself in the mirror and when he was done it was too fogged to see anything. He put on a sleeveless shirt that wouldn’t hinder the movements of his arm and left for the kitchen.

Natasha was seated at the counter when he entered and she nodded at him when he started rummaging through the fridge. Stark said that he and Wilson where welcome to use anything that didn’t have a name on it.

“How long did you train me?”

The Asset looked up at Natasha. “Two weeks, all in all.”

She nodded. “What did you teach me?”

“This and that,” the Asset shrugged. “Mostly testing and improving your skills.”

“But why?” she asked, genuine curiosity coloring her voice. How careless.

“You were top of your class, better than anyone before you,” the Asset replied. “They were curious.”

“Would you train with me?” Natasha asked hesitantly. “I’d like to know if that sparks any memory.”

“Sure, just let me eat something first,” the Asset answered, feeling the programming making him comply.

“Perfect,” Natasha smiled. The Asset thought she was too emotional. She had been better once.

“Oh, James, you’re up,” Wilson said, entering the kitchen, nodding to Natasha.

“Yes,” the Asset simply answered, having learned to react to the name.

But he noticed Wilson squinting at him.

“Why are you speaking Russian, James?” Wilson asked calmly.

The Asset stilled. He had made a mistake. A splashing noise drew his attention to his left hand that had let go of the egg he had been holding to wrap around a big kitchen knife. His right hand was holding the .38, pointing it at Sam.

Natasha had risen from her chair. “Sam, what is happening?”

“He has an episode,” Sam said calmly. “Nothing to worry about.”

Natasha looked between the Asset’s weapon, still pointed at Sam, and the veteran. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s not the first time,” Sam answered distractedly. “James, I need you to put down the gun and the knife. You don’t want to hurt anyone. I should have known that the unfamiliar surroundings would make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

The Asset slowly, very slowly lowered the weapons, keeping an eye on Natasha.

Sam realized what made him hesitate. “She won’t hurt you, she doesn’t work for them anymore.” He looked over to the woman. “Any way you could look less threatening?”

Natasha sighed and relaxed, removing her hands from her hidden weapons. She looked over to the Asset. “I won’t hurt you James, I promise. I know you don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to go back either.”

The Asset put the knife back in its place on the wall and the gun on the table in the middle of the room. Then he let his arms fall to his sides.

Sam came over and put his hands on the Asset’s shoulders. “You’re safe, James. We out ran them yesterday. They have no idea we’re here and neither Tony nor Jarvis will let anybody even remotely connected to  _ them _ through the front door.”

The Asset closed his eyes, and James took a deep breath.

“Fuck.”

“Yep,” Sam said simply. “But it went quite well, given the circumstances. And I really should have remembered what moving, and worse, running from Hydra would do to you.”

James shook his head. “You were as sleep deprived as I was, even Marc wouldn’t have thought of it.”

“So, if you’re speaking Russian it’s likely that you’re having an episode?” Natasha asked hesitantly, moving slowly closer.

“That, or German and a general dead stare,” Sam said with a laugh. “It’s really hard to spot sometimes. I will brief all of you on what to do as soon as everyone is here.”

James grimaced. “Maybe you could just ask Jarvis to, I don’t know, lock me in or something?”

“I think it’s still safer if they know,” Sam said soothingly. “I know you don’t really get triggered by everyday life, but still.”

“Maybe you could tell them yourself?” Natasha suggested with a barely there smile. “I know that I felt better about telling people not to startle me, when I was allowed to do it myself.”

Sam nodded. “That is a good idea. And I think you should ask Stark to allow you to design your own suite.”

James thought about the two ideas. Marc would approve. They would give him control over the situation. Just like choosing his own apartment and his own furniture had. (James decided to ignore the frenzy in which the hundreds of options had sent him.)

“I’d like that,” James finally said quietly. “And now, I think should clean away the egg before it dries.”

Natasha looked down. “Probably, I’ll show you where the cloths are.”

o0o

James was still horrified that he hadn’t even noticed speaking Russian; that he had been so deeply the Asset, more than he had been for nearly three months. Doing the dishes had certainly helped him calm down a bit. The familiar movements allowing his mind to wander, but always staying pre-1945.

“What set you off?” Sam asked, when he had put away the last plate. “A dream?”

James nodded. “I dreamed of the first time they ever programmed me.”

“Oh, shit, that’s bad,” Sam said quietly. “You said you never dream of the programming itself?”

“First time for everything, apparently,” James muttered. “But I think you’re right, yesterday probably rattled me quite badly. I slept with the gun under my pillow again.”

“What would help you to feel more comfortable?” Sam asked, leaning against the kitchen counter while James wiped down the table.

“Getting rid of the windows, the bed in a blind spot. I already duct taped the vents shut, but I didn’t know what to do about the other things,” James answered, nodding to Tony who entered the kitchen and went straight for the coffee maker.

“J, can you please black out the windows in Barnes’ room?” Tony asked absentmindedly, staring at the coffee maker as if it would shorten the time until he had his coffee.

“Of course, sir,” Jarvis answered politely.

“Can I ask you something, or do you need coffee first?” James asked Tony, grinning a bit when then man only blinked at him.

“Do you need a coherent answer?” Tony asked, sipping from his coffee only to promptly start cursing.

“Burnt your tongue again, Stark?” Natasha asked, smirking. She had gone to fetch Clint and Bruce, who were now trailing behind her.

“Shut up,” Tony grumbled and took another, more careful sip.

“Where is Steve?” Natasha asked, taking a look around and completely ignoring Tony.

“Said he’d be up in a minute, probably has another boxing bag to destroy,” Sam said casually, but James raised an eyebrow at him.

“Elaborate.”

Clint answered instead. “Cap uses boxing bags to train and let out aggression, but he isn’t always too good at controlling his strength.”

Sam shrugged. “What he said. He told me he actually pays more for boxing bags than for food, and I’m sure you remember how much food he needs.”

“No, not really,” James said, frowning. “He never ate more than any of us.”

“But as far as the SHIELD scientists found out he needed a much heightened amount of calories ever since his transformation,” Bruce said quietly. “Why wouldn’t he eat properly?”

“Stupid, little punk,” James huffed. “Sounds a lot like him to keep something like that quiet.”

“Something like what?” Steve asked, entering the kitchen. He had apparently showered before coming upstairs, if his still wet hair was any indication.

James frowned at him. “That you need a lot more food than an average human being.”

Steve just shrugged. “Everyone was short on rations, I wasn’t going to eat what little they had away.”

James buried his head in his hands. “Something else you kept quiet to not inconvenience us? I swear to God, if you weren’t fighting full strength because you didn’t want to eat more, I’m going to hit you.”

Steve blushed, and rubbed his left arm. “I kind of did.”

James glared at him and before anybody could react he had crossed the kitchen to hit Steve lightly on the back of his head. “Stupid punk.”

“Mother hen,” Steve retorted, grinning like a mad man.

“Apparently for a good reason,” James grumbled under his breath before he returned to his place at the counter, next to Sam. “Dum Dum would have personally kicked you in the ass for keeping that from us.”

“Peggy did for sure,” Steve said, smiling sadly.

“She’s still alive?” James asked with big eyes.

Steve sighed heavily. “Yeah. But I’ll tell you more later. Why the family meeting?”

James snorted at the description. But his smile fell when Sam motioned for him to talk.

“I guess, Steve told most of you that I have been brainwashed by Hydra?” Everyone nodded. “Sometimes, after a bad dream I wake up as the Winter Soldier. Most days I notice it early on and can get myself out of it. But sometimes I don’t. Apparently I have a pretty dead stare, in that situation and I’m speaking either German or Russian. I’m not generally dangerous in those moments, but you really shouldn’t startle me or you’ll have a gun in your face,” James said drily. He stared at the table, not wanting to leave them out of his sight or look them into the eyes.

“Can we help you somehow?” Bruce asked calmly, a friendly smile on his face. In that moment he reminded James of Janice: unafraid and compassionate.

“Get Sam, he knows what to say and…the Soldier trusts him to a point,” James explained. “He doesn’t want to return to Hydra, so his biggest concern is keeping us safe.”

“Is it healthy to speak about yourself in the third person?” Tony asked, raising his eyebrows.

Sam shook his head. “The Soldier isn’t exactly James. As far as we know Doctor Fennhoff basically turned off James’ personality to create the Winter Soldier. That was the only solution to keep him from attacking the guards and the doctors whenever they tried to use him.”

“And even then I injured many,” James added quietly. “So yes, the Soldier is more or less a different person than I am. But we aren’t completely separate, I remember what he did, he remembers what I do. Mostly my empathy and my free will are what makes us truly different.”

Steve looked like he wanted to go and hug James. Tony seemed contemplative. Bruce was radiating understanding and sympathy. Clint looked shook. And Natasha watched him closely.

“The Soldier called me Натка, back when… that shows some consideration,” she said, frowning.

“It’s more than likely that that was me, coming through,” James explained with a shrug. “They needed to wipe me every few days if I was active for longer than twenty-four hours. Otherwise I’d start to question things.”

“What do you mean ‘wipe’?” Clint asked, looking a bit horrified.

“Did none of you read the files I leaked?” Sam asked incredulously. “It was headlines!”

“Someone proved they were faked and we didn’t look into it,” Tony said, shrugging. “You should have told us, that it was you.”

Sam scoffed. “And risk Hydra getting wind of it? No thanks.”

“Well, they found us anyway,” James said quietly. “And if you don’t want them or the Army interrogating you, you probably should head back.”

“No, I resigned from the veteran center before I left,” Sam shook his head. “I’m not leaving you here on your own.”

“Normally I’d say you’re crazy,” James said, his smile lacking mirth.

“…but not after that episode,” Sam teased him, flicking his metal arm. “And you’re lucky, I got called to join the Avengers and decided to do just that.”

“Never mind that I invited you three months ago,” Steve said, rolling his eyes with a good-natured smile on his face.

“Well, what can I say? A friend asked for my help with a top secret patient,” Sam said shrugging and pointing at Steve. “Counter that offer!”

“I guess running together doesn’t count?” Steve said with such an innocent smile that James nearly snorted.

“Did you hear that?” Sam asked faux-exasperated. “He’s mocking me! Captain America is mocking me!”

“You deserved it,” Steve said flippantly. “I’m a pleasure to train with, ask B- James!”

James raised his eyebrow. “You mean those miserable boxing lessons, where I tried to teach you how to land a punch?”

“Tell me more about that!” Clint exclaimed with a mischievous grin, leaning forward and Steve groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Why did you have to mention that?” he said, desperation fighting with the grin on his face.

James only smirked and winked at Clint.

“We need to have an in-depth chat about puny Steve Rogers trying to learn boxing,” Clint said, grinning at James like a lunatic. “I guess you’ll have the best intel.”

“Did he ever take you on a tour of Brooklyn?” James asked, contemplatively. “I’m talking about the Rogers’ Special of course.”

“You, stop talking,” Steve said, pointing at James. “And you,” he turned to face Clint. “Stop encouraging him!”

“I don’t think either of them needs much encouraging from the other,” Sam remarked drily. “But that’s not important right now. We need to speak about how to deal with Hydra, and the aftermath of the Triskelion.” Steve groaned. “You need to make a statement, Steve!”

“What should I tell them? Natasha said what had to be said in front of the Congress,” Steve argued clearly annoyed.

“If I may,” James interjected quietly. “The press issued the statement, or at least the appropriately warped version, but according to…people…I know they don’t believe that. Because it’s the press, in most people’s eyes the press isn’t neutral.”

“Exactly,” Sam said with a nod. “There will always be skeptical people. Of course. But if they hear it from Captain America himself? They’re more likely to believe you than anyone else.”

“Pepper could have a press conference ready in an hour,” Tony said calmly. “I think you really should talk to them. It would be great if James could say something as well, but that would be quite the security risk.”

Steve sighed and turned to Natasha. “What do you think?”

“It’s still your decision,” she shrugged. “But maybe a press conference with a livestream would be a good idea.”

“Why the livestream?” Steve asked frowning.

“So nobody can say anyone manipulated the footage,” Tony explained. “So, what do you think?”

“Clint? Bruce?” Steve looked at each of them in turn.

“I’m with James,” Clint said seriously. “The average American doesn’t entirely believe the press. They need validation from you.”

“It’s you decision, Cap,” Bruce shrugged.

Steve sighed. “Alright. Tony, could you call Miss Potts?”

“On it,” Tony said, tapping on his phone.

o0o

As promised an hour later the press conference room of the Tower was brimming with journalists. There had been a big announcement on social media that Captain America would finally break his silence about Washington and as far as James had heard twitter more or less exploded with excitement.

The surprised look on Steve’s face when James had easily pulled up the twitter app to show him the amount of activity on the official Avengers twitter account had made the weeks agonizing about how the hell this worked worth it. Tony had crowed triumphantly and told Steve that he didn’t have the excuse of being from the forties anymore.

James refrained from telling them that learning things swiftly had become one of his survival skills during and, more so, after Hydra.

Now the Avengers where glued to the TV waiting for Captain America to make his announcement and answer a few questions from reporters. Miss Potts, who reminded James more of Peggy in her scariest moments than he was comfortable admitting, would introduce Steve. As if the man needed introducing.

_ “Thank you all for coming today,” _ Miss Potts said on the TV.  _ “I’m glad you could make it on such short notice. After months of silence Captain America decided to finally speak up about what happened in Washington and maybe his account will make a few things clearer.” _

Miss Potts nodded to someone off-screen and then Steve was coming on stage, in full regalia and with his shield on his back.

“Honestly? The full uniform?” Clint asked, before popping a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Making sure they don’t forget who he is,” Natasha shrugged, stealing some popcorn out of Clint’s bowl.

_ “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” _ Steve said on the screen.  _ “Before I’ll explain about Washington I have to share something I only learned this afternoon: The leaked, translated documents about the Winter Soldier weren’t faked. Everything written on those one hundred and fifty pages is the truth.”  _ The crowd erupted into questions until Steve held up his hand and they quieted down. _ “There will be time for questions later. Now, Washington. Shortly after the first attempt on Director Fury’s life in the streets of Washington he came to me and told me that SHIELD had been compromised. He didn’t know, or didn’t tell me, by whom and only gave me an USB drive for safe-keeping. Black Widow and I went on a quest trying to find out what was happening. We discovered that the three new helicarriers they had been building in Washington were supposed to be used for Hydra’s goals. Hydra had survived and infiltrated SHIELD from the beginning. And now they planned to take out twenty million people, who were seen as a threat to Hydra, using those helicarriers who had been designed to fend off the next alien invasion.” _

“He’s using numbers, that’s good,” Sam whispered next to James, who nodded mutely.

_ “SHIELD agents who Director Fury had trusted with the truth had come up with a solution for our problem: destroying the helicarriers. I freely admit that I didn’t stop to think about the amount of destruction that plan would cause. I was too focused on taking down Hydra to consider that turning those three helicarriers against each other would mean unfathomable amounts of collateral damage,” _ Steve admitted, standing straight, accepting the judgement of his mistakes.

“There wasn’t much time to think and plan anyway,” Natasha explained. “We had four hours or so, before the launch.”

“We should have considered it,” Sam replied glumly. “But Steve trusted Fury and I trust Steve’s judgement.”

“Shush, both of you,” Tony hissed, stealing chips from Bruce and munching them loudly.

“Shush yourself,” Clint whispered, throwing popcorn at Tony.

_ “As some of you know I was heavily injured during my last fight with the Winter Soldier,” _ Steve continued.  _ “I was unconscious for a few days and had stern doctor’s orders to stay in bed for at least the next week. Otherwise I would have been out there and helping with the rescue missions. I’m very sorry that I wasn’t able to help.” _

Silence fell over the room beyond the screen (twenty stories under them). Then the first reporter, a blonde woman with sharp eyes spoke up.  _ “Captain, do you have any statement to the alleged identity of the Winter Soldier?” _

Steve shook his head.  _ “I do know who he is, but I’m afraid that is not my secret to share.” _

_ “Why are you protecting a man who murdered so many people over the decades he has been active?” _ another reporter asked challengingly.

_ “Because, and if you have read the files about him you know that, he didn’t do any of it willingly,” _ Steve said calmly.  _ “Hydra forced him to do their bidding with methods that are beyond anything anyone could have imagined.” _

_ “Do you agree that SHIELD should be treated as terrorist organization and be shut down accordingly?” _

Steve took some time to consider this.  _ “I don’t know how deeply the infiltration by Hydra ran, that has to be evaluated carefully and only then a decision can be made.” _

The press conference continued in much the same way for another ten minutes, until Miss Potts reappeared and declared the end for the day. Tony turned off his TV but for a moment nobody said anything. Steve had put himself out there, ready to accept the judgment for Washington. But still that didn’t mean that the wreck in the Potomac would magically vanish overnight. Maybe the press would at least stop some of the speculation now.   
o0o

Later that evening James was talking quietly with Sam in the kitchen when Tony stomped up to him. Before James could react in any way Tony started to yell.

“How could you not tell me! You fucking asshole come here, I shelter you, give you food and you don’t fucking think to tell me?!” Tony got louder with every second and James was stepping back consciously. Five foot seven of heated anger were frightening.

“What are you talking about?” Sam interjected, stepping around the table and positioning himself between the two of them.

“And you! You read the goddamn file! And you didn’t say anything either!” Tony pushed Sam back into the table.

“What are you talking about, Stark?” James grabbed Tony with his left hand and dragged him away from Sam.

“Don’t you dare act like you don’t know, and remove your fucking hand,” Tony hissed at him, his eyes narrowed and an accusing finger pointed at James. “You fucking killed them.”

James sighed and pulled his arm away from the seething man. “I killed many people.” He silenced Sam with a glare. “And if you didn’t notice: most names were redacted in the files.”

“You must have recognized him, he was your friend,” Tony seemed to be deflating somewhat, but the burning hatred had yet to leave his eyes.

James frowned, he already felt his heartbeat speeding up.  _ Not good. _ “I didn’t even recognize Steve, and I knew him for ages.”

The commotion had attracted the other Avengers who had been watching a movie in the sitting room. Steve frowned in confusion, but Natasha looked like she knew what was happening.

_ He felt the blunt fingernails in his flesh hand, breathcomingtoofast. _

“Tony is this about your parents’ car crash?” she asked gently, stepping further into the room.

“It wasn’t a car crash that killed them,” Tony answered darkly. “The Manchurian Candidate here fucking choked my mother to death.”

Sam sighed. “Tony, it wasn’t James, it was the Winter Soldier and you shouldn’t even blame him. Because Hydra sent him. Hydra controlled his actions.”

_ He felt electricity burn through his skin…can’t move, can’t move, can’t move…his left arm throbbed with pain and he tasted the copper of blood. Cold, so cold… _

James tried to take deep and even breaths. Unclenching his fists. Keeping his thoughts on his friends and his recent memories. The first movie he watched with Marc and Janice. The poker game where he easily won thanks to his impassive face. Sam knocking a Hydra agent out with a prosthetic leg. Janice and Marc hugging him goodbye.

_ желание, ржавый, семнадцать- _

“James, James, you’re safe, you’re in the Avengers Tower,” Sam was suddenly in front of him. Not touching, but talking quietly. “You’re safe, nobody is going to hurt you.”

Steve stepped closer, helpless desperation palpable on his face. “Sam, is there anything I can do to help?”

James turned his head to Steve. Focusing on his look of concern. Reminding himself that Steve survived. “Stevie,” his voice came out as a low rasp. “You’re here…”

Steve smiled sadly. “Of course I’m here, jerk. To the end of the line, remember?”

“Yeah, punk,” James felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “Thought I’d lost you.”

“Back at you, idiot,” Steve replied with a sad smile. “You good?”

“Better,” James said, voice still shaky. “You can stop worrying Sam.”

“What just happened?” Clint asked looking between the still seething Tony and James breathing hard, while leaning against the countertop.    
Sam just shook his head, focusing on the problem at hand.    
“It can’t be” James whispered, horrified. 

“You really didn’t know,” Tony said flatly. “You didn’t recognize him?”

“When did your- when were your parents murdered?” Sam asked, stepping away from James and turning to Tony.

“December 1991,” Tony answered, no inflection whatsoever in his voice.

“I knew him in the forties, Tony,” James breathed, surprised. He started massaging his left arm with his right hand, soothing the pain, keeping the movements in rhythm with his breathing. “Even if I had been myself I would have had trouble to recognize him after fifty years!”

Tony frowned, jutting his chin out stubbornly. “If you say so…”

Steve turned to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, that happened to them.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I had much of a connection to them anyway,” Tony said coldly, shrugging Steve’s hand of as he turned and walked away.

Steve looked after him with a worried frown. James swallowed deeply. He remembered that look on Steve’s face, often directed at Peggy or Bucky if they did something dangerous. 

“Go after him,” Natasha said after a moment with a sigh. “Keep him from destroying his workshop.”

Steve nodded and turned to follow Tony, but stopped just before he left the room. “Are you sure you’ll be fine?” he asked James.

“Yes, I am,” he replied, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, even though his smile was still unsteady. “Go.” Stupid little brother, always worrying about him.

Steve left, Natasha, Bruce and Clint returned to the living room and their movie. After a moment’s hesitation Sam followed them and James took the opportunity to slip away. He got JARVIS to tell him how to get on the highest roof of the Tower and walked up there.

o0o

Sitting on the edge and holding his face into the wind he tried to remember December 1991. It had been the last time he had woken up in Siberia. At least according to the files. Now that he knew that the Soviet Union had fallen in December 1991 he guessed that the new government hadn’t been too fond of Hydra.

He remembered the biting cold that hadn’t even fazed him. Remembered the electricity shooting through his body. Remembered the file he had been given. Remembered waiting for the couple to leave their mansion. Following them. Ramming the car. Killing the man. Dragging him back to the car. Killing the woman. Taking the suitcase.

James forced himself to remember the faces.

And he didn’t recognize either of them.

Not the man who may have had a resemblance to his old friend once and had said his name. Not the woman, whose eyes could have been those of Tony. Or not.    
He felt like he had been a spectator in his own head. 

Groaning James buried his face in his arms. He had killed his friend and even now he didn’t recognize him. He had orphaned Tony, the man who had offered him shelter from the government and Hydra.

He should vanish. He had already stayed too long. Hydra had found him once before. He couldn’t put anyone else in danger.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of super-soldier?” a voice suddenly asked from beside him. Looking back James was glad that he left his gun in his room otherwise this could have ended much bloodier. Now he only pinned his attacker down with his left hand and very nearly stabbed him in the eye.

Realizing that he hadn’t been attacked at all, that Clint didn’t even carry any (obvious) weapons, he pulled back. “Don’t startle me.”

“Sorry, I thought you’d heard me come up here,” Clint shrugged and picked himself up. “Sam got a bit worried when you didn’t return.”

James frowned. “He does realize that he doesn’t need to mother me, right?”

Clint snorted. “He said something about Steve killing him if you vanished on us again.”

James just shook his head and settled back down on the edge of the roof. After a moment Clint plopped down next to him and started fiddling with the arrowhead he wore around his neck .

“You know, I got a bit of experience with the whole mind control thing,” he said just when the silence was about to grow uncomfortable. “Did you hear about New York?”

“The alien invasion?” James frowned.

“Exactly,” Clint looked down on his hands. “Prior to that Loki, an Asgardian, put me under a spell. Making me help him infiltrate SHIELD and destabilize the Avengers. I killed many agents that day until Natasha knocked me out. I know it was much harder for you. But…I just wanted to tell you that I know how it feels to wake up and realize that you killed someone you knew.”

James looked over to the archer. “Thanks.”

Clint smiled at him, getting up. “Sure. Are you coming downstairs?”

“Not yet,” James said quietly. “But you can assure Sam that I won’t run off.”

“Of course, Sergeant,” Clint said with a wink and a sloppy salute, turning to leave.    
James couldn’t even say for sure what had derailed his thought of leaving. But it didn’t seem like an option anymore. 

* * *

It took Tony a week before he answered any questions with more than one syllable and talked on his own. That was if he ever emerged from his workshop.

James noticed the worried frown on Steve’s face whenever Tony failed to interact with his teammates or show up for normal meal times. Steve was the only one permitted in the workshop during that time and used it to bring the billionaire food when he didn’t get some on his own. 

Two weeks after Tony had found out about his parents a huge green lizard started a rampage in New York and the Avengers set out to capture it. (Bruce stayed at the Tower, unwilling to unleash the Hulk on New York, again. At least James had company while reading.)

They weren’t successful. But the mission seemed to have brightened Tony’s spirits considerably.

“Hey, birdbrain, did you steal my blueberries again?” Tony yelled out of the kitchen and Clint nearly fell from his perch on the back of the couch and onto Natasha.

“Do I look like I would steal your blueberries?” he cried in indignation. He hopped down from the couch to collect the cleaned arrows he had scattered in his surprise.

James looked over to Steve, who quickly hid the small bowl behind his back. Shooting him a grin and a wink Steve answered for Tony. “Yes, you do Clint.”

“Traitor!” Clint pouted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And what are you hiding behind your back there?”

“Nothing,” Steve said, putting on his most innocent face and raising his hands to show that they were empty.

James snickered. “It would be more convincing if your teeth weren’t blue, punk.”

Tony looked into the living room and narrowed his eyes at Steve. “You better have a very good explanation for stealing my food, Capsicle.”

“Super-soldier metabolism,” Steve shrugged, a pleasant smile on his face.

“Blueberries aren’t exactly filling food,” Tony said with an accusing glare, stepping fully into the living room.  

“But they’re healthy!” Steve explained, still trying to look innocent but gradually failing.

Clint leaned down to James. “Five dollars that Tony gives in.”

James snorted. “Ten say Steve gives in and buys him new ones because he feels bad.”

“Fifteen say Tony gives in and Steve buys him new ones anyway,” Natasha whispered from the other side of Clint, not taking her eyes from the scene.

“If you say so,” Tony said, rolling his eyes and going back into the kitchen.

James grinned at the expression on Steve’s face, guilt written all over it. Clint groaned even before Steve called out for Tony to wait.

“Tony, I’m sorry,” Steve said when the man in question turned around. “I- I’m going to store and get you knew ones.”

Both James and Clint groaned and pulled money out of their pockets. “Damn you, Romanov.”

Natasha grinned broadly at them, very obviously unrepentant. “Don’t be sad. Remember I did a dossier on Stark and I spent the last years going on missions with Steve.”

“I’ve known him since we were little!” James said.

“And you didn’t even notice that he needed more food than normal people after his transformation,” Natasha pointed out, rising gracefully from the couch. “Now I’m going to spend your money on chocolate, see you later boys!”

With that she left James and Clint alone on the couch and an uncomfortable silence settled over them. James tried to find the sentence where he had left of in his book but was distracted by the clinking of Clint’s arrows.

“Why did you choose a bow?” James finally asked, after he had lost his place for the fourth time.

Clint shoulders twitched . “First weapon I learned to use, I kinda stuck with it, after.”

James hummed. “Well, I wouldn’t have thought anyone could be that good with it.”

Clint chuckled drily. “Thanks man, if you ever want to try shooting just tell me.”

Before James could answer Tony called for him from the kitchen. Clint waved him away and with a last look at the tight shoulders of the archer he went to see what Stark wanted.

o0o

Whatever James had expected when he entered the kitchen area to talk to Tony it wasn’t the mechanic carefully reassembling the toaster on the kitchen table. For some reason it now had a circuit board that was way too complex for an average kitchen appliance.

“You wanted to speak to me?” James finally asked when Tony hadn’t said anything after a minute of silence.

“Huh, oh, yeah,” Tony looked up from his work, apparently only remembering just then that he had called. “Yeah, the basic layout of your suite is done, so there is only furniture shopping left. Just tell Jarvis what you want and he’s going to buy it for you.”

James shifted uncomfortably. He knew that Tony wouldn’t have asked before buying furniture if Sam hadn’t told him to. He knew that Tony was rich enough to buy him furniture. But still…

“Steve warned me that you’re as stubborn as a mule when it comes to charity,” Tony said without looking up from the toaster. “This is non-negotiable. My tower, my rules. You need something big like furniture? Bought. Your clothes, decoration and whatnot are on you.”

James sighed heavily. “Alright Stark, don’t get you panties in a twist.”

A small sound drew his attention to the toaster, which for some reason sported a display now. The small machine was nearly fully reassembled and Tony carefully put the modified case back on to finalize the work.

“Why does the toaster have a display?” James asked, somewhat apprehensive of Tony’s modification.

“It allows you to get your toast at the perfect crunchiness,” Tony said grinning proudly. “No more guessing, no more burnt toast.”

James grinned. “Steve is going to be so confused.”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, about that…how come you take to technology so easily and he doesn’t?”

“I was awake part of the last seventy years,” James shrugged. “And it took awhile for me to learn as well, they didn’t teach me anything beyond calling for extraction. But I had help, mostly from Sam.”

“Well, Steve has been awake for over two years now and he still doesn’t really use any new technology,” Tony pouted and James wondered what Steve had done to offend him. (Probably not deliberately, for all that Steve could be a little shit he seemed to like Tony, a lot.)

“I’m no psychic,” James said, watching Tony poke at the microwave. “Maybe you should ask Sam, they talk about stuff like that.”

“I don’t think I will,” Tony said, distractedly. He seemed to be searching something in the drawer next to the sink and finally pulled out a handhold blender.

“Why’s that?” James prompted when Tony fell silent again.

“He’d want to know why I want to know,” Tony explained, fully focused on the blender.

“Careful, don’t cut yourself on the blender. Again,” Bruce said when he entered the kitchen from the elevator. “I don’t want to stitch you up every other day.”

Tony glared at Bruce. “I’m perfectly capable of stitching myself up, thank you very much.”

Bruce only shook his head with a fond smile. “Never said you couldn’t.”

Tony didn’t speak up again until Bruce left with his mango lassi in one hand and a StarkPad in the other, obviously focused on whatever he was doing. Then the mechanic poked his head around the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room.

Turning back he wheeled in on James. “How good are you at finding people?”

“Do they want to be found, sir?” James asked automatically.

Tony flinched, but barreled on. “No, definitely not. But…I finally broke through the encryption of Level Seven SHIELD files and I found someone I thought to be dead.”

“Do we have a location?” James asked, quietly. Tony obviously didn’t want the others to know and asking James spoke of desperation. They were barely back on speaking terms.

“He is mobile, in a big ass plane, but...” Tony trailed off and started fidgeting with the blender again.

“But?” James prompted, watching Tony for any and all signs.

“But there was a base mentioned, something called ‘Providence’,” Tony explained. “I looked it up and I can’t seem to find it, although I do have the location.”

“So there is a chance he was or is there?” James asked, already calculating the ways he could break into a secret base that obviously was deeply underground if Tony’s satellite hadn’t picked up on it.

“He definitely was there, a NSA satellite was hacked from there on the day of the Battle of the Triskelion,” Tony confirmed. “I just don’t know whether he’s still there.”

“And you want me to check it out, why?” James crossed his arms in front of his chest. He wouldn’t say no, he had been itching for something  _ real _ to do since he had been pulled out of his peaceful life in Washington.

“You’re the only one who has never met him and can therefore be completely objective,” Tony explained, looking to the living room again. “And with your skill level I actually think that you could find him.”

James nodded contemplatively. “So where is he?”

“Canada.”

o0o

James cursed his thrice-damned idea to tell his best friend that he was leaving. Steve was very persistent in trying to find out where James would be going, maybe even tag along and now Sam…

“Steve, he is far from good!” the traitor said calmly. Steve had wanted to know why James couldn’t leave, aside from threat of Hydra finding him. (Apparently that had been his biggest concern, go figure.)

“But aside from the nightmares and the thing where he wakes up as the Winter Soldier, he really seems to be fine?” Steve argued. “I mean, of course he isn’t as talkative anymore and doesn’t really joke around, but…”

“What do you think how many times a week James wakes up as the Winter Soldier?” Sam asked quietly. But not quiet enough that James wouldn’t hear him standing behind the corner.

“I don’t know. Two, three times?” Steve asked, sounding uncertain now.

“Six out of seven,” Sam answered matter-of-factly. “We’re lucky if it’s only five times and to be honest, most of the times he manages to pull himself out within the first few hours. But letting him go on a mission, alone to who knows where? That could set him back weeks, if not months!”

James had heard enough. Yes, he woke as the Asset. Yes, he was very uncomfortable in enclosed spaces and yes, if he didn’t have a gun and a knife on him he wouldn’t leave the house (or his room) at all. But doing a mission to help find someone the whole team apparently liked a lot, a mission without a kill order…Wouldn’t that help him? Wouldn’t that be a step in the right direction of making amends for some of the pain he brought into the world?

When he turned to leave he saw a flash of red vanishing into one of the rooms along the hallway. James was torn whether to be proud of her or irritated at himself for not noticing her earlier. 

He followed her into the room without pausing to knock. Natasha clearly waited for him since she was sitting demonstratively relaxed on the couch.

“So you’re going on a mission and Steve and Sam aren’t happy about it,” she said, examining her fingernails.

“What did you hear?” James asked, closing the door behind him.

“Six out of seven nights?”

He shrugged and raised an eyebrow.

“In only three months?”

He nodded.

“I’ll tell Sam to un-bunch his panties.” She stood up, sighing heavily.

“Why?”

She looked at him sharply. “It took me a year to even realize that normal people don’t have a designation, and that just because I’d left the Red Room it didn’t mean I was free. That reciting the same story word for word every time somebody asked who I am isn’t normal.”

James nodded. “I guess I had it easier.”

“Probably,” Natasha admitted. “But I still think Sam shouldn’t worry about this mission. Tony wouldn’t send you on a kill mission.”

“Why does it make a difference?” James asked curiously. He knew it made a difference for him, but for her?

“It’s different from what  _ they  _ sent you to do.” Natasha spoke without hesitation or doubt. “It’s different because this time you can nearly be sure that what you’re doing isn’t hurting innocent people.”

“Right,” James nodded. He hesitated for a moment. “I’ll be gone in an hour, since Stevie probably will try and follow me…cover for me?”

“I can get you a head start of three hours max,” Natasha looked at her phone contemplatively. “Unless someone accidentally frees the Doombots we recovered a few weeks ago of course.”

James grinned at her and if her mirroring grin was anything to go by it was downright scary.

“Try to stay alive, Steve’ll hate me if you don’t,” Natasha said, shooing him out of the room.

“Can’t have that,” James answered with a quiet laugh and jogged down the corridor. He had a mission to prepare.

o0o

The northern wilderness of Canada was uncomfortably similar to what he knew of Siberia, but James wasn’t too fazed by it. Cryo-freeze was much colder and he had survived that for decades. Luckily it wasn’t cold enough for him to get a flashback.

James checked the GPS again. According to the information Tony gave him he was right on top of the base, unlike any other base he knew this one didn’t seem to have an access from above.

But then something caught his eye. The glimmer of brushed metal behind a bush ahead to his left. James realized that the barrel would probably be hidden by snow if it wasn’t so ‘warm’ (James refused to think of forty-five degree as warm). Scanning the area for trip wires and other triggers he didn’t see anything, but Stark had theorized that SHIELD had used his camouflage technology to hide the base so it wasn’t too far a stretch to assume that they could hide scanners.

Grabbing a branch from a tree he broke of a part about the size of his forearm. Weighing it in his hand he carefully threw it in the general direction of the gun. The motion sensor was triggered and another gun revealed itself on the other side of the clearing. Both shredded the branch within seconds. 

James took in the new information. Two huge machine guns, but nobody had come out of the base, or used any technology to contact him yet. According to their information the base had last been used three months ago. Taking out the guns with grenades would be close to impossible since they’d shoot them down before they got a chance to latch on.

The metal arm would probably deflect the bullets without taking too much damage, but even if he reached the entrance there was no guarantee that he would be able to get in. Especially if there was no one there to let him in.

If there was no other way he could probably blast his way in, it just would be a bit obvious and he had been trained for stealth. Shrugging James raised his arm to cover his head and slowly walked towards the base. No shots rang out and James started to think that the guns only aimed for flying objects.

James’ hypothesis seemed right until he came within five feet of the base and then guns aimed for him. However they didn’t start shooting and a mechanical voice (very unlike the smooth tones of JARVIS) started speaking.

“Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, 107 th Infantry Regiment, Service Number 3255703856898. Welcome to Providence.”

James narrowed his eyes at the doors that were now visible. SHIELD had no reason to include Sergeant Barnes in their admission list. Taking the rifle up he decided to use the opportunity and ask these questions later.

Upon entering he became aware of a big man, leaning against the far wall of the corridor. He wore sunglasses, a black hat and had pulled a scarf up to cover the lower half of his face.

“Close the damn door, man. It’s getting cold,” he said calmly. His deep voice sounded slightly amused.

James kicked the door shut behind him, not daring to take his eyes off the man.

“Who are you?” the man asked, straightening from his position against the wall.

Frowning James answered. “James Barnes.”

“Good, I just wanted to make sure you won’t try and kill me again,” the man stated matter-of-factly. Then he proceeded to take of the scarf and shoved the hat out of his forehead. The sunglasses stayed firmly in place.

“Again?” James asked, lowering the rifle marginally.

“Four months ago, you shot me in Cap’s apartment,” the man explained, the tightening of the skin around his glasses probably meant he had narrowed his eyes. “You don’t remember.”

“I had many missions,” James shrugged. “Who are you?”

“Nick Fury, former Director of SHIELD,” the man said, not offering a hand. “Would you put the fucking gun down? I’m trying to have a civil conversation with you.”

James decided that he probably could take the man out either way. He put the rifle down and took a few steps down the corridor. “Why are you here?”

“It’s my base,” Fury stated as if it was obvious. “Plus the Army already searched it and thinks they made sure nobody can enter it again.”

“Why did you include me into admissions?” James asked next, following Fury into what looked like a communal space. It had bullet holes in the walls.

“I had a feeling that you would find your way here,” Fury said, settling down on one of the couches. “I didn’t think it would be in Tony Stark’s name but stranger things happened.”

James remained standing. “You know why I’m here.”

“I do, and I will help you,” Fury motioned for him to take a seat on the couch on the other side of the table. “I’m afraid I fucked up a bit and this is my chance to right a few wrongs.”

James sighed and took the seat. “What do you want?”

“Nothing you aren’t already doing,” Fury said easily, leaning forward. “I want you to find Phil Coulson and drag his ass back to New York. He is the new director of SHIELD, or what is left of it and he needs the help Stark and his boy band can provide if he wants to deal with this clusterfuck of a situation.”

“What mistakes did you make?” James asked suspiciously, his left hand resting on his thigh above the knife hidden there. His right was very obviously lying over a gun strapped to his left side.

Fury narrowed his eyes again. “Normally I’d say it’s none of your fucking business. But I guess keeping secrets is the reason this shit happened in the first place.” He stood up and went over to a counter where he filled one of the glasses with what looked like Whiskey. He didn’t offer James anything and returned to the couch. “I used Coulson’s death to bring the Avengers together, and when I, fuck…” Fury trailed off, staring at James for a moment. “When I resurrected him I kept him isolated from nearly everyone. Even his old team. In previous experiments there were…complications, I didn’t want them to get their hopes up only to fuck it up again. So I kept it secret, told him not to contact Barton or Romanov. And he accepted it.”

“You resurrected a man.” James wasn’t quite sure whether to believe him. Granted, he had seen strange things happen at Hydra, but the dead stayed dead.

Fury nodded. “The project was closed down already because of the complications, I only reactivated it for Phil. But he was somewhat lost after and plenty angry when he realized that I had memories implanted so he wouldn’t remember it. If I told him to contact the team now he probably would refuse, thinking that it’s too late now.”

James snorted. “Sounds like you indeed fucked up royally, sir.” He contemplated the information in silence. “Clint and Natasha were on his team?”

“They were the team, the three of them,” Fury explained, taking a generous sip of his drink. “Best fucking team we had, to be honest. Phil was loyal to SHIELD and Barton and Romanov where loyal to him. But Stark knew him well enough and Phil is a huge Captain America fan.”

“The real one, or the one they showed in the comics?” James asked with a grin. Sam had introduced him to the comics and cartoons created after the war, they were hilarious. 

“Guess.” Fury answered, raising his eyebrow.

James snorted again. “So you want to help me find him.”

“I know where he is, one of my other bases is his headquarter.” Fury pulled a tablet out from under the table. (James had to force himself not to react to the motion, the man had no reason to shoot him.) “You’ll probably be able to find it easily once I give you the coordinates, but you’ll need transportation.”

“Where is it?” James asked curiously.

“An island in the Bermuda Triangle,” Fury said, pulling up a map. “I’d give you a quinjet, but I doubt that you can fly it.”

James frowned. “I already did.” Fury raised an eyebrow. “At the Triskelion.”

“Alright, that makes it easier,” Fury nodded decisively. “There is one in the hangar, if you make a quick stop in Portland you can have it.”

“Yes, sir,” James said automatically. This was something he knew, a mission, an order. It was somewhat soothing and if he had the time to evaluate the feeling James would probably be alarmed by that.

“Then let’s get going,” Fury said, standing up and knocking back the rest of his whiskey.

o0o

Fury jumped off the plane in Portland, cautioned him to be careful and vanished into the sparse shadows of the tarmac. Against his better judgment James was impressed. Even for him that would have been difficult to pull off.

During the flight from Canada Fury had explained among other things that the quinjet could easily fly straight to the ‘Playground’. But James knew that he would need some food in a few hours so he decided to go into the city and get something to eat before he took the flight.

After he had eaten James went in search of a payphone. He hadn’t called Marc before he had left New York and the man insisted that James should tell him about all changes in his life.

“Marc Spencer?” The sleepy voice was indication enough that James should have remembered the time difference before calling.

“Sorry Marc, I didn’t mean to wake you,” James said, half intending to hang up immediately.

“No problem James, I told you can call me night and day,” Marc said quietly. “Just let me get out of the bedroom. I don’t want to wake Janice.”

James patiently waited for the click of the door. “You wanted me to inform you if I leave New York. I did. I’m on a mission, finding a friend of Stevie and the rest.”

“Alright,” Marc seemed to take a moment to digest that. “Where are you?”

“Currently in Portland, but I’ll be leaving within the hour,” James answered, carefully checking his surroundings.

“How do you feel doing this? Any problems?” Marc asked curiously.

“I’m doing fine,” James answered truthfully. “The tracking down was a bit too much like old times, but nothing that I couldn’t deal with.”

“Good,” Marc sounded relieved. “Sam was worried.”

James snorted. “Of course he called you.”

“I told him to let you do this,” Marc was obviously grinning now. “Although I don’t know whether he listened to me.”

“Probably not,” James chuckled. “But if he called you I’ll have to get going. Don’t want them interfering.”

“You still have your StarkPhone?” Marc asked, unfazed.

“Yes.” James hadn’t wanted to use it, even if he suspected that Tony probably wouldn’t give Steve access.

“If you feel like you’re slipping don’t hesitate to call me,” Marc said earnestly. “And now go, get ‘em!”

“Yessir!” James hung up, chuckling to himself. He was so very glad to have Marc. Because he didn’t expect him to be a certain way, always encouraging him to find his own version. To be the James Buchanan Barnes he wanted to be. (He chuckled again at how cheesy that sounded.)

James returned to the quinjet, feeling lighter and surer in his decision to go for this mission. He could and would do this.

o0o

The quinjet closed in on the coordinates Fury had given him around noon and just as expected he was called by the base as soon as he dropped the camouflage.

“This is Sergeant James Barnes, Nick Fury sends his regards,” James answered just as Fury had told him and soon enough the doors to the hangar opened for him. Flying inside and setting down took some concentration, but not enough that he wouldn’t notice the agents milling about, very obviously not watching him.

James gracefully jumped down on the tarmac, carding his hand through his hair. The motion drew a few wistful stares and James dropped his arm. Attention was to be avoided at all costs.

“Mr. Barnes, Mr. Fury didn’t tell us you would be coming,” a tall, Asian woman stepped up to him, her arms crossed and her tone just shy of cold.

“I’m afraid it was rather last minute, ma’am,” James replied with a small smile and a shrug.

The woman raised her eyebrow. “And why exactly would Fury send a man from the military to us? I don’t recall us being on good terms with your men.”

“Agent May, I will take over from here,” a friendly voice interrupted their staring contest.

James had of course been shown pictures of Agent Phil Coulson, but he had thought that the man would be more intimidating in life. Apparently the opposite was true. James stiffened.

“Sergeant Barnes, so good to finally meet you,” Coulson said calmly, not offering his hand though. “I’m Director Coulson, would you please follow me to my office?”

Casting a quick look around James nodded. For now the curiosity of the agents seemed to have dissipated. Maybe the appearance of a superior had reminded them of their tasks.

James followed Coulson through a communal space (without bullet holes) and up a staircase into a rather chaotic office. There were moving and filing boxes everywhere, some of them open, some with files lying scattered across them.

“Please excuse the state of my office, Sergeant,” Coulson said with an apologetic smile. “We’re still settling in.”

“I’m no Sergeant anymore,” James said quietly, his eyes never leaving the unassuming, average looking man in front of him. Tony had insisted that he had to be careful.

“Well, as far as SHIELD is concerned you were a POW; severely compromised and held for decades, but nevertheless a POW,” Coulson pointed out calmly, settling into the chair behind his desk.

“I don’t deserve that rank anymore,” James stated without any inflection in his tone. He remained standing.

“Yes, you do,” Coulson said fiercely and for the first time James saw something dangerous in the man, before he settled back into his Soft Spoken Agent persona again. “I’m sorry Agent May didn’t realize who you are, you deserved a better greeting especially if Fury really send you.”

“He did,” James answered easily, eyes tracking Coulson’s every movement.

“Why?” Coulson asked, genuine curiosity coloring his calm voice. James wondered what it took to rail the man up.

“He was helping me with my mission,” James answered evasively. He wanted to get a better read on the man before he trusted him with the true reason of his appearance.

“Where did he find you? We were of course focusing our power on going after remaining Hydra cells, otherwise I would have sent someone looking for you,” Coulson told him, while arranging some papers on his desk.

“I found him,” James let pride and satisfaction color his voice and watched as Coulson’s right eyelid twitched. He didn’t show any other sign of surprise.

“That’s quite something.” Coulson watched him now somewhat more covertly. “What did you want from him?”

“I have a question before I’ll answer that,” James said easily, summoning the easy smile Bucky had always worn. “How much of a Captain America geek are you really?”

Coulson looked startled for a moment, but he covered it well with a laugh. “I’m afraid that’s classified, Sergeant.”

James smiled shrewdly. “If only you knew the real Cap.”

“You mean the man who decided to go into a heavily fortified Hydra base on his own because he had heard that his best friend might have survived and been captured?” Coulson asked teasingly. “The Captain who remembered allies in Brooklyn on base on whether or not he had been beaten up there?”

James chuckled, and for the first time since Hydra had appeared in the vet center it was mostly lighthearted. “I see you got to know him a bit after all.”

A faint blush covered Coulson’s ears. “Only through Agent Carter’s stories. She was my SO when I first started out at SHIELD. We didn’t have much time to talk on the helicarrier.”

James watched Coulson grimace, all teasing leaving his face. He knew a man who didn’t want to admit he was in pain when he saw him. “I was sent to find you.”

“By whom?” Coulson was back to Soft Spoken Agent, but it didn’t fool James. He was worried.

“Tony Stark, he found you in the encrypted SHIELD files Natasha leaked,” James said calmly. “He wanted to know if you were really alive, sir.”

“Stark send you?” Coulson seemed truly puzzled now. “What connection do you have to him?”

“He gave me a roof over my head and protection when Hydra tracked me down a month ago,” James answered truthfully, he saw no harm in telling the agent. Especially if he was to come back with him anyway.

“What does Stark really want?” Coulson asked warily.    
  



End file.
